bleu poem

  • May 24, 2021

(Courtesy of Pexels)


wrinkles shift beneath tattered sand

bushy bristles curve in gentle slopes

pointed high towards the evening sky


chirps crowd the dewy air 

Mixed with the melody of a howl 

hoots pierce the clouds,

twisting and slipping between fluffy snow

like a dainty blunt needle

clicking a tat-tat briskly against its twin 


springs of fuchsia paint the stars

smears of a galaxy of lights dot the inky blackness of the mountains’ silhouettes

trills coat the sigh 

dropping like a wayward slip of a leaf from its guardian oak tree




deep within the senior’s breast, a cackling fire raged 

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