A Winter Afternoon

The low sun gets rough with the planet,
Turning one hill's creamy snow into
A covering of salt, another's bed of fallen
Leaves to gravel.  Trees are deeply
Furrowed.  This old house's tattered
Awnings look more like confetti now,
But that fierce orb still cares for
Doggy, who lies peacefully asleep
Upon a glowing patch of carpet
Laid out just for it.

Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 36 times
Written on 2023-01-05 at 23:30

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text

josephus The PoetBay support member heart!
Great contrast, Larry. Old dogs and sun seem to have an affinity for each other. Some symbiosis we donít understand.