Bare branches stretch upwards
Blackened veins against the terra cotta sky
A red sun bleeds on the canvas
Both pleasing and perplexing to the eye
Morning wakes the birds
Who whistle lullaby to the prairie
A fence and single shelter stand
A wooden house painted cherry
YOU ARE READING
Resting Place
PoetryA collection of poems that is more experimental and practice stuff than anything. I'll test out different forms and subjects, have a little fun with it. It'll be ongoing until I get bored with the idea of it. I'd like to hear what you think! Tell me...
