Picture Credit: Gabriella
We pass along this way, too many times to count. Whether in the early morning or late afternoon, we amble along the park content with our short stories and small gossip. The walk always felt short, tinged with the smell of ripe apples and plums on the ground. Around the bend, we would run home, with our pockets filled with small stones.
But today I don't notice the bare trees nor river tide. Not even the fruits mulched on the soil. Only the empty fields stretching wide under grey clouds. There were no pigeons or geese nor any children loitering around. There was only this silence, reverberating, swishing with sharp thrust of the coldest air.
rain trickles down
silver light on webbed twigs -
an owl hoots, unending
Posted for D'verse Poets- Haibun Monday - Hosted by Gabriella ~ Thanks for the visit ~