SHIFTING HUES
The clouds are tinted, salmon hues,
The coolness of morning, stroking leaves,
Then, the invisible paint brush, washes
Over the clouds, once more;
Now, there are silver white clouds,
And the mocking bird, on the wall,
Hops a dance of, wing flap wing fold;
To complement, the tones of transfers,
And then, the racous call of the grackel,
Be alert, for throughout the day,
Subtle changes are happening;
Then, all vanishes, into the sleep of night,
Where dreams, can be painted,
To colour, yet another day.
SHIFTING HUES © gillena cox 2017
You've heard about the Monday Blues ❧✿❧ well this is Monday WRites (musing on the definition here of rite, as any customary observance or practice eg the rite of afternoon tea).
Welcome to Monday WRites #94, ❧✿❧ What's your mood like today ❧✿❧ I invite you to link in with one of your WRites
Its open mic on Tuesdays
❧✿❧
