Sun’s gift a final blaze
draws me to cliff’s edge
darkness doesn’t credit day
owes it allegiance to another
the great moon orator
whose tides and pull
send me plunging
ego-less and flailing
till morning sets me
on my feet again.
(Image my own)
Sun’s gift a final blaze
draws me to cliff’s edge
darkness doesn’t credit day
owes it allegiance to another
the great moon orator
whose tides and pull
send me plunging
ego-less and flailing
till morning sets me
on my feet again.
(Image my own)
Sunshine, you magician,
adding sparkle to my view,
painting the cloudless sky
a dazzling shade of blue –
favoured by your golden rays
we all take on a glowing hue.
(Tuesday, I will borrow a poem from Twitter. Visit me @Vjknutson)
The sky donned a mask today –
clouds contriving a hoax –
like a great, feathered beast
emerging from the heavens,
bearing down on me –
Silly, this trepidation, this
superstitious sentimentality –
both clouds and I know
this is only illusion – sun
still rules the skies…
(Willow Poetry poses the weekly challenge: What Do You See? based on the featured image.)