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"enchaining" poems
Early morning It was in the early morning, blackbird song and long wet grass, shuffling through making trails in dew In the early mornings of my life. Something of magic in the sun slanting through wet dripping branches, pearls of water drops in spidery webs enchaining blade to blade in the long wet grass. It was in the early morning rising from warm sheets when hearing that cuckoo summons from far distant woods, calling , welcoming me forth into the dewy day, doors unbolted, stepping from within dark walls, shadowed kitchens, cold and stony floor. Stepping forth and catching at my heart. They were. Sun’s rays, dewy grass, pearls of water drops.
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Feb 10, 2018
Feb 10, 2018 at 6:48 AM UTC
loretta-proctor
Early Morning
Early morning It was in the early morning, blackbird song and long wet grass, shuffling through making trails in dew In the early mornings of my life. Something of magic in the sun slanting through wet dripping branches, pearls of water drops in spidery webs enchaining blade to blade in the long wet grass. It was in the early morning rising from warm sheets when hearing that cuckoo summons from far distant woods, calling , welcoming me forth into the dewy day, doors unbolted, stepping from within dark walls, shadowed kitchens, cold and stony floor. Stepping forth and catching at my heart. They were. Sun’s rays, dewy grass, pearls of water drops.
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It was in the early morning, blackbird song and long wet grass, shuffling through making trails in dew In the early mornings of my life. Something of magic in the sun slanting through wet dripping branches, pearls of water drops in spidery webs enchaining blade to blade in the long wet grass. It was in the early morning rising from warm sheets when hearing that cuckoo summons from far distant woods, calling , welcoming me forth into the dewy day, doors unbolted, stepping from within dark walls, shadowed kitchens, cold and stony floor. Stepping forth and catching at my heart. They were. Sun’s rays, dewy grass, pearls of water drops.
0
Mar 3, 2018
Mar 3, 2018 at 2:05 PM UTC
loretta-proctor
Early Morning
It was in the early morning, blackbird song and long wet grass, shuffling through making trails in dew In the early mornings of my life. Something of magic in the sun slanting through wet dripping branches, pearls of water drops in spidery webs enchaining blade to blade in the long wet grass. It was in the early morning rising from warm sheets when hearing that cuckoo summons from far distant woods, calling , welcoming me forth into the dewy day, doors unbolted, stepping from within dark walls, shadowed kitchens, cold and stony floor. Stepping forth and catching at my heart. They were. Sun’s rays, dewy grass, pearls of water drops.
Continue reading...
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