Touches of Warmth
gossamer is the breath
falling in heated touches
this first monday morning
of autumn's calling
sunrise tipped trees
smile back at the horizon
a reflection of dawn
translucid drops
roll off the curls
of leaves yearning
to quench their thirst
no rain comes
from cloudless skies
just the cries of hawks
as they cincture above
appreciating the warmth
sheathed in this day
Copyright © Sandra Adams | Year Posted 2019
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