Frames
Frames hold nature best.
A shafting of light sifts gray marsh and water--
turning past dim hills of hay
solemn in silence.
An essence of earthworms fill the air
as light seeps through a colander of clouds,
catching the ephemeral cattle in a vase of sun.
How gentle is the hand that lightly places
and is gone
as evening rings clear and cool
like the edge of a wine glass.
Copyright © Glen Enloe | Year Posted 2005
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