February Day.

 


Rheumy eyed skies pick up

the chill of dawn,

pull fog draped curtains across

the day’s first breath.

A mist edged glow from lamp’s

last light softly holds the

frost below, and late roused birds

with ice-nipped voice, begin to

stir the air.

© sweetwater 2023
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critique and comments welcome.
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ifyouplease

oh, beautiful write

featheredwing

This is just my type of poem…perfect.

Featheredwing.

ifyouplease

well there is someone nibbing I see, this deserves a nib also. Good choices the other two recent nibs! this poem by Sue is good enough to be among Uka’s picks!

allets

Good 2 c u always. Cool light verse. xoxoxox ๐Ÿ˜€ slc

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