It's Still Life

To Grow a Thought

The sun shines into tucks of towels.
It’s a scent of heat
that grazes the skin.
The scent of sunbathers
in burnt colours.
Shades of cardinal-scarlet
stretched in lines at the white dusk
of morning.

The air shatters with thunder.
Half the sky is alive
with rain brushing clouds,
while couples in lateness of life
chatter and buzz
like bees undeterred.
And in the long strings of tree lights
sparrows sing in a sweep
of radiance.

The trills you hear,
they are singing for us.

Imagery and poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2024.