Poem – Color and Sound

The last orange highlights
sink into the horizon.

Thin grey clouds float
across light blue sky.

Red-winged blackbirds
continue conversations.

Across the fields and wetlands
lawn-mowers cut through deep green grass.

The calendar tells me it is June
and with eyes closed I hear summer

but this evening has settled
for October.

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.