The Sycamore in Winter

The deciduous Sycamore stands barren in the winter, a place to roost for corvids. It's not pretty, it's almost unnoticeable.

Curious Corvids skirt beneath the cinereous clouds
A tumultuous wave of curling and swirling
In the crepuscular light they inhabit your bough
Rooted to the spot, scrutinized, analyzed

Disrobed and shivering, you reach out to me
I find you ugly, however, it's alluring
The guise of your sway,
When the light caresses your languid limbs,
For a brief moment, you appear radiant.


2012 © Lorna Hunter

Reviews

[Distant horizons]

beautiful write. thanks for sharing