Morning Dawn, and all is clear;
The skies a blue periwinkle
then gray clouds appeared near,
rain started to drizzle
then a harsh wind, white thunder.
Waves and rocks meet, clashing foes
wind singing a shirring song.
Slow to a silent close
as the storm runs gone.
Nothing left but Mist and Dew,
As the clock strikes twelfth
on thing is revealed true.
Nature likes to hide itself.
No comments:
Post a Comment