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Blue Skies by Sylvia_the_Wanton_Poet

Dormant branches reach up like fingers
to a cloudless sky,
where not even the bravest of crows fly,
and not a drop of summer's rain lingers.

Still the wind breathes,
stirring dead leaves.

The sun shines down bright,
warming only those under cover,
while the wind brushes like a lover
with the promise of a frozen night.

Blue Skies

Sylvia_the_Wanton_Poet

Another poem written while sitting at the bus stop in lieu of interacting with other human beings!

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Literary / Poetry / Lyrics