The millpond water
In the sultry air
Stood eerily still
its mirrored surface
Reflected its image
In crystal clarity
So perfectly still
That the millpond water
Could have been
A looking glass
For young Alice
To enter wonderland
The mist cascaded down the hillside Like a maiden’s hair Tumbling onto her shoulders The bare branches of the birch trees Pierced ...
No comments:
Post a Comment