5 Minute Poem

Light upon the forming hills,

As rays slide over with rising hue--

The trees change from shade to bright,

As their mood seems to shift in turn;

The pockets that remain, dark upon the land,

Soon reveal the glory of their wells;

The dawn of sight is close at hand--

As of those who still slumber on,

Traipsing across their own secret planes.

(Did I say 5? I meant 3. Ha-Ha)

AN UNNECESSARY NECESSARY UPDATE:

Apparently my poem did not meet a 100 word minimum, so this writing is essentially a forced exposition to give the post enough breadth for submission. I am still new to the platform, and forgot that I have run into this issue before. From now on, I will be beefing up my posts as necessary to counteract this--in my opinion--perceived flaw.

I write in the flow. I don't write for the sake of a public quota.

Unfortunately, this poisons my original intention for the post as a whole, but, fortunately, my main point still remains true.