in a canvas of white
maple trees are empty baskets
while pine trees are lush of cones
along ice-covered pathways-
such a grey dreary sight
yet with slight touch
of sunrise, rolling clouds, blue sky,
the morning is leavened
by puffs of yellow-butter radiance
Posted for dVerse Poets pub - Quadrille, hosted by De Jackson. This is a 44 word post with the chosen word, TOUCH. Join us with a poem when the virtual pub doors open at 3pm EST. Thank you for your comments.
