Congregation
The warble,
round like the earth and its sky,
land colors
of flour-
soft feathers, sits with its peers.
The blue hills,
a sea-tinted
mountainous shape against Spring's
sun-lit edge
is a harbor
for the winged creatures, amongst
a budding
tree, windy
caress of grass, the sandy
dirt of foot-
prints. A stream
gushes downwards, its silver drops
crest into waves,
the multi-
tinctures of the stones under
the silken
glassiness
are a congregation. The bird
flies away.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
