First Rain
A watchful kind of morning this
The sky a billowing pinkish bliss
In stark relief scattered oaks stand
As sentinels for the waking land
Soon the pink has faded away
To white pillowing clouds at play
The wind has started to gently blow
Stirring where the golden grasses grow
Time my child to wend our way
Homeward where our hearts do stay
I think the afternoon brings rain
Our winter song's first refrain...
Copyright © Barbara Gorelick | Year Posted 2010
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment