Sun-days
Sundays
and church bells
chime,
a mid morning call
to awake,
earth tilled
and prepared,
in dreams
of November,
for springtime,
sleeping in silence,
born to create.
And above
the fields,
blue sky
and woodsmoke,
crows circle
and call,
their trees released
of leaves,
trembling
and tumbling,
memories
of summer,
flickering in colour,
slowly fall.
For beside the river,
meandering
in curves,
with lazy ships,
clouds
and sails
of white,
upon skies
of late summer blue,
autumn, reaches
deep for lengthening
shadows,
and pulls winter
into darkness anew.
Feel free to contact me. Be nice to know who my audience is and perhaps you can suggest some further topics or themes for my writing! And do give me feedback!
p1964km@googlemail.com
