A quiet winter sun peeks out
over tiled roofs
from a wooly blanket of clouds
slightly lumpy
bunched and folded
against the mountain.
He casts soft,
barely there shadows,
and a hint of a glimmer
on left over raindrops
balanced
on the curve of a leaf.
He dreams of love
while the passion flower withers.
unbuttoned or undone 
The winter sun must be a lovely sight to behold
LikeLike
He is a courageous one, always fighting a coalition of invading hordes of clouds, cold and moody winds. He is then at his best, when the battle will most likely be lost but he gives it what he has anyway.
Sometimes, he is just plain tired of fighting.:-)
LikeLike
That’s poetic!
LikeLike
🙂
LikeLike
Chin up, he’s on his way back!
LikeLike
🙂
LikeLike
Ta description des nuages me fait sourire.
Encore un poeme exquis.
LikeLike
Je suis toujours heureuse de te faire sourire. Merci.
LikeLike
Mister Sun is not his usual boisterous self. What brought on this quiet mood?
LikeLike
I think he is distracted.Or may be a bit bored fighting the same cloud formation everymorning… I’ll have to ask him. 😉
LikeLike
Ah, Emm, springtime is only 2 months away. 🙂
LikeLike
Practically around the corner!
LikeLike
Lovely, lovely, lovely… I am so glad you put down the watercolor brush (for a time anyway) to pick up the pen. Your written imagery is so picturesque and sensual…
LikeLike