Morning Poem #2, January 23, 2017

On the hill the red brick houses stand amid the morning mist as if floating

The white clouds thicken in the valley below

The river has drawn the fog like the first warmth draws the dew

And, seen from above, its tortuous course through the valley is a white snake

Silent and sleeping

Wisps creep up the mountainside through the bare forest

Through the black branches of winter

In the streets of the town no one moves

I wait for the school bell and then the chimes of the churches

To assure me that time is still moving and that the day is passing.

.

copyright 2017

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