seasons speak their own language cold days here and yet the light tree branches in wind and February next week . . . reading poetry and more light falls on journals across the room to read and reread
Golden tapestry of dawn’s loveliness…a lucent glow of morning bliss Sun toasts the earth to tan-rousing cuddled eyelids , feeling the moistened kiss of morning dew. Leaves flutter like braids on an indulgent wind under a sky embroidered with crystalline clouds… Satin ribbon of a zephyr traces rouge on cheeks to playfully trace the hem of my dress as I step on lush of grass –feeling the interludes of sunlight’s warmth… Chorus of velvet madness beguiles senses as wings fling themselves on blooms and trees, trilling chimes from dainty throats– their beaks twirling on fragrance as buds unfurl …. And the earth and air are born again.