The Wildest Beauty Poem by John Scully
The Wildest Beauty
Rooks cawed,
over apples sliced and stored,
while nothing else stirred the air.
The day: Had a certain mystery and magic,
sleeping under a blanket of lazy grey.
Oaks, standing statuesque
shaded us like enormous brollies
from a mugging heat.
A single robin landed nearby and stared,
no one spoke,
there was no need,
and the robin gave a piping tune.
Thursday, July 12, 2012
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4/26/2024 2:53:53 PM # 1.0.0.1119
a sweet moment in time, nice description.