Banked high above the eerie glow of a rising sun
Dark ominous clouds.
Are they by the fearless
Who calls to the sun with his incessant
Chattering of various chirps
Whistles, pretty, pretty, click, click, whirt-wherra.
At the edge of the yard a few Crepe Myrtles
Which were allowed to grow normally
That is without the massacre of the tops
Crepe Myrtle which have turned a reddish-orange
Preparing to drop summer's leaves and brace
For winter's fury
Fog has settled 'pon the forest and the creek_ an eerie scene
One that gives a feeling of suspense and mystery
There is just something about the lighting on this partly cloudy morn that adds a
Mysterious glow to life's canvas
The sun lingers just barely above the horizon seemingly to stall and wait
Before she gives light to this ghoulish kind of morn...