1280
chasing the sunshine
valleys ahead
through rivers and rainbows
over clouds thrown
by larch lake
bumpy
no lines marked
leaves taken to wind
lush of meadow swept
sheep dodge
as if waiting to follow
now and then struck golden
everywhere hay hung
to say summer
Røros red
the old huts falling
shadows sudden and gone
passing veranda folk
decked for all seasons
huddle at picnic
blue over
falling to bits
deep in the rain
still chasing the sunshine
no heaven imagines us here
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.