Brisk Walking
The air is here, whistling
Gently brushes my eyes
And twirls about to sing.
The grass is spritely and soft
While bluebells sip froth's juice,
Till petals glide aloft.
I race on fields undone;
With rhythm on my toes
Sweeping a frolic run.
This morning sway so sweet
Like chorus of dawn's hymn
In time with joy complete!
Copyright © Rora Onna | Year Posted 2014
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