Greydusk swallows colours:
blues already long gone,
and the most - dour green shades
sliding to greyscale.
I risk first midges of the year,
here,
invisible now.
Dandelions shrugged their yellows up
tightly as they can -
faint, tarnished blobs -
only apple blossom still blushes
wavering to hold place
on darkening boughs.
But then, those delicate,
almost luminescent,
stippled clusters of white
in the thorn of the hedge?
May is readying herself.
..
YOU ARE READING
Bare Shouldered
Poésie"The difference of high Sensations with and without knowledge appears to me this - in the latter case we are falling continually ten thousand fathoms deep and being blown up again without wings and with all [the] horror of a bare shouldered Creature...
