Fevered Mind

A poem by Sydney Stone. I do not own the image.

***

Silvered wisps,

Grip,

Forest tips,

As tulip hips,

Drip,

Dewdrop bliss.

New sun’s dawning,

Fawning,

Over fox kit’s yawning.

Bull elk bellows,

It’s misted-breath yellowed,

In meadows mellow.

Distant twig snaps,

To the tune of rap-tap,

From the woodpecker’s trap.

The day has thus come,

To a world still young,

Filled with songs yet to be sung.