Crisp air and clear skies freshen the senses, injecting one into a world more real than one has felt before. Cerulean skies, free of contrails, feel close at hand. Grazing leisurely, a deer cracks a downed limb, the sound carrying across the lake. A fluttering fishtail breaks the water as a bass turns and darts down and away, the sound of sprayed water is heard clearly, though one sees no indication of the creature. Shifting winds fill one's nose with an antiseptic scent of pine. One is alive - fully alive.
This entry was posted in Haibun, nature, poem, Poetry and tagged Blue, Early Autumn, Haibun, poem, poetry by B Gourley. Bookmark the permalink.early autumn
skies tint the muddy lake
a cold color