Shy, blithe play of light concealed to the naked eye penned by earth's author
By Jess Sabout a year ago in Poets
deep within the clouds a blanket is made for us a soft veil of snow
Sometimes in life we take missteps and falter in our travels Be mountains climbed or forests lost a shadowed gloomy alley
By Amos Gladeabout a year ago in Poets
beyond the skyline lie my dreams so noble, but far beyond my scope
upper atmosphere like a magnifying glass to the outer space
What the Germans say: "No. There is no bad weather only bad clothing"
bows of rain, painted by the sky, sculptured and carved by earth's chemistry
colored bridges, that daze us only so slightly yet, our hearts crave them
autumn leaves whirling heavens lid screaming, yelling how enraged he is
"Petrichor", a word, an ever-so-soothing noun, terms "the scent of rain"
Yes! There is something, about thunder and lightning, that enlightens me.
strong fast wings of metal bringing joyful dreaming souls to where I dream of
