For Colleen’s first challenge of the year, a butterfly cinquain. Inspired by this morning’s tragic news. The body count goes up.
new clouds, new night,
peace falls here though the sky
blazes elsewhere, stars fall, trailing
lives. Who hears tears on such a night?
Who sees the hands waving,
the last words breathed,
For Colleen’s photo prompt.
the melting ice
and heating storm-rocked air
our hothouse world of beauty wilts
A butterfly cinquain that doesn’t quite fit the remit for Colleen’s challenge as I have only used a synonym for one of the words.
that shakes the trees
is the wind’s, the voice that
calls in the night and stirs your dreams.
to its wild song woven with threads
of moon silver and the
A cinquain for Colleen’s weekly challenge.
and cedes to the
power of wild stormwinds,
rattling the last acorns, dry leaves
Time for some strict syllabic poetry this morning. A cinquain sequence for Colleen’s challenge. Our first real frost and the last for a while I hope, is disappearing in a beautiful cloudless morning.
furred stiff with frosted cold
that fell with the starlight in night’s
sun in cloudless
sky, sharp as ice shards, blue
as the powdered wings of blue tits
than melting ice, frost-fur
bathed in golden light where birds flit,
A butterfly cinquain for Colleen Chesebro’s weekly challenge.
spreads shadow wings,
scale-feathered, red and gold,
sweeps the stubborn grass with tree tears
Stalks loosened by the searing sun,
leaves sail the brisk bright breeze
on gales of childish
long grasses sweet bedstraw
a slight depression barely hid—