RedRavenPoems

Wander the broken path, feel the air stir before you

The sun will rise, color the sky, and the earth grows damp with morning dew.

The mist rises before your eyes, a vortex of shapeless forms.

What will come forth, what will be made, when the mist shapes have been born.

They swirl they whirl into fantastic images

Each born of imagination.

They wave they sway, they beckon. With silent jubilation.

The sun climbs it’s strength increases.

Torn asunder by the blaze, the mist fades away.

Now the oaks, mighty and huge, are revealed in splendor.

The fields of flowers dot the land, bathing it in color.

Here the sunflower opens wide, a delight to ones weary eyes.

Now the violets are born, among the brackish throng of weeds.

There is beauty in the wild, indeed.

Something all should see.