Spring is coming, I sure can wait
I feel no rush, Spring can be late
Boats tied to dock, and jet skis too
Harsh human sounds are very few
Ducks paddle by and murmur quacks
Under wood dock a carp's tail whacks
Fog burns off with the sun's warm rays
Stiff wind picks up and pine boughs sway
Sun hides behind a train of clouds
Rain pit pats on tin roof are loud
Lake turns choppy with tiny waves
Small fire in hearth, my cold bones crave
Watch rain fall on a dimpled lake
This quiet time my soul will take
Spring is coming, I sure can wait
I feel no rush, Spring can be late
© Copyright 2018,2019 by Cleomez (all rights reserved)
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Lyrical Porch II
PoetryCome sit on my porch, When you're feeling scorched, Come put up your feet, Read a tranquil treat ....
