Posted in Poetry

Weather’s Dance by L. M. Montes

Drops of plenty wet the soul,
a newness fills and now takes hold,
pinkish flowers sing scents so sweet,
indulging the mind when we are weak.

Breezes soar invisibly,
hovering, surrounding, playfully,
the freshness of air so crisp and clean,
conveying pictures of nature’s scene.

Grassy cushions so green and lush,
a silky sinking, dreaming of much,
sun returned, its beams pushed forth
the dancing clouds from way up north.

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