“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Thursday, August 29, 2019
Periwinkle...
...was precisely the most fitting tone
of dawn before the tint of all things
illuminated themselves outward
humming their hues
in synchronic earth tones,
in the distance,
there were glimmerings,
starlight still hanging
on, winking it self away
until the last wishes
were taken in
pastel.
Painting by Thomas Wilmer Dewing (1851-1938), 'Untitled', in Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
I'll be with you in a moment
We don't give ourselves enough credit for adapting but praise our Evolution as the golden thumb. There is a sweet spot- contentment tha...
-
A year ago this May, in fact, upon this same very grey day- something came over me I found could say, in no other way but to portray, ...
-
Where does one begin to unpack the suitcase of grief? While it may be nice to throw it all away, or donate these shreds, I find it i...
-
We don't give ourselves enough credit for adapting but praise our Evolution as the golden thumb. There is a sweet spot- contentment tha...

No comments:
Post a Comment