These Are the Lonely Days…

 

when love poems

don’t come,

when clouds cover

mountain-tops and

smother the valley,

when the gray mists hover

above the big conifers,

darkening them.

Trees hold memories

of deep rains.

I hold memories

of you.

But in drought

the clouds bring

just this grudging

bit of moisture,

the drops clinging

briefly to

leaves and needles,

as if to tease

the trees who wait

for that

wet release.

Published by

sanberdooboy

I've been writing mostly poetry for many years and have gotten a number of works accepted in publications and anthologies. I'm most interested in communicating with poets for whom craft is a high priority. I enjoy finding and commenting on poetic gems in other people's work. For my own work, I welcome polite comments, whether positive or critical.

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