morning poem, may 13, 2016

.

The first grey of morning
presses against the face of the lake
still as glass

It is too early for wind
too early for birdsong

In the sky above
an eagle closes its wings
and lights in a high, bare branch
its shoulders point up
black against the grey sky

all is silence
all awaits

copyright 2016

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s