Forced by changing season billows set sail
aft the mountains like forceful Viking ships.
Rage branches whipping in winds obscured lips;
leaves wave saying goodbye before the gale
finding a path through the tall sagging grass.
A drowned sound barely above a murmur
and the only thing left standing firmer
was the sun behind the horizon mass.
Poetry Contest: Writing Challenge 1,
September 2019 - Eight Line Form
Sponsored by: Dear Heart - Wiishkobi Ode
Copyright © Eve Roper | Year Posted 2019