The spring had been awoken by the sun
and a white haze were floating up the snow:
its breath, that wrapped around the green crowns
of the pin trees. White frost was in a glow...
The branches of the willows had been glassed
with the slight gleaming whitish icy beads.
The bushes looked pretty in the reddish gloves,
even without the smooth silver leaves.
The haze had wrapped the fully frozen feet
of the majestic cloister with gold domes.
They fired in the sunny candy gleam,
and the bright light was flowing down the walls.
There were no clouds in the light-blue sky:
the spring took off the whitish lacy veil.
Big clocks were beating solemnly the time,
and a sweet smell were spraying through the dale.
by Thea Ariss 13.03.2024
The sweet smell of the spring. The Sketch
© Copyright: Тея Арис, 2024
Свидетельство о публикации №124031306489
Свидетельство о публикации №124031306489
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