|
Comment on this
article
The Morning Is a Wing
by Joannie Stangeland
When she sleeps, she is rowing.
Light washes like water.
The water plays light
and green. The wind washes her
in spring. The wind plays light,
a taste of apricot.
A mallard glides onto the lake,
settles with a flutter, splash.
The morning is a wing.
Oars feather the water's sky.
The sunrise lasts for hours.
She sleeps through the night.
Return to:
©
2001- 2013, Quill & Parchment
Productions
All
contributions are copyright of the respective authors |