Pale Red Sun
The pale red sun rises on the eastern horizon casting light upon a low crescent
moon and morning star. A Whip-Poor-Will with a sore throat sings his love song to
his mate or maybe to the master artist who paints the constantly changing canopy.
The once smokey gray horizonal clouds have turned a shade of cerise. So much
sound reverberates this still morning. The roosters echo in the hollow, doves coo
upon the hill, mockingbirds sing their varied tunes back and forth through the
oaks while all the neighboring folk lie in bed.
share piece of bread
Blessings sometimes come in strange places. The Indigo Buntings are a rare sight their beauty shone forth in which there came delight. Thank you Lord for this beautiful
Copyright © Sara Kendrick | Year Posted 2014
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