Coniston
Swaths of purple ripple, breeze blown,
down the hillsides to the water's edge
as the early morning sunlight splatters
her surface with scattered diamonds.
Majestic, as old as the granite outcrops
surrounding her, she shimmers,
'til the weather takes a downturn.
Afternoon thunder and heavy gusts
whip her to a frenzy, as the mountain
goats and hikers hurry to take shelter,
her complexion now grim and forbidding.
The storms disintegrate, the evening sky
turns red and gold, and peace resumes
its reign. This princess, both petulant and calm,
assumes a sheen like polished glass,
a stillness, a silence, an absolute darkness,
just waiting for sunrise to sparkle again.
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