Leaves wave from the almost bare branches,
and though I am barely awake,
I am through with the day already.
The sky is a grey grimace,
glowering down at me,
giving attitude that I don’t deserve,
because we’re both getting going on a day that doesn’t promise us much.
Winter Morning
One response to “Winter Morning”
-
This poem sounds like what Monday’s should sound like. Good poem
LikeLike
Leave a Reply