
Raindrops sparkling in the sun’s slow rise,
sprinkled like stars across the dark green leaves,
sky still heavy with the sleep of trees…
shouldered aside by dripping roofs,
the world they wake to –
is it all that they dreamed?
Another poem from the North Shore Magazine vault.
A question we could all ask…
LikeLiked by 1 person
Indeed! Thanks for that, Bob!
LikeLike