The first night frost. The first cold winter breath.
An autumn threw a cover from above.
It laid and sparkled on the green meadow grass
like a thin veil, dropped by a lovely miss.
Whitish thick steam rose up a mirror-like
immovable surface. An old greyish bridge
was calmly rocking touched by the cold wings
of the light wind. It caught sun rays and shined.
The dawn rose up a goldish dazzling crown.
Wide sandy bank was covered with small plants.
They trembled and pulled a lot of pinky fluffs
up in the sky, trying to warm the ones.
The last mild rays. The last bright sunny days.
The autumn morning painted green trees’ leaves
with the white frost. It coddled a naive dream
to win warmth back, but winter paved the way.
by Thea Ariss
23.09.2024
The first night frost
© Copyright: Тея Арис, 2024
Свидетельство о публикации №124092305820
Свидетельство о публикации №124092305820
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