It's cold. And day by day severe wind
is scutching rare grass on a sad valley.
Untimely spring made nature to be green
too early with hot days. Night frost is shaking...
Its breath is coating too fragile young bright leaves
with whitish hoarfrost. It burns up flowers
of the wild strawberry, injuring rims.
And airy brush paints up them into brown.
The sky then frowns, thickening gray veil.
The seeping beam of the gold sun is trying
to treat the lobs with warmth. But it's too late.
They'll never be the same. And sky is crying...
by Thea Ariss
29.04.2025
Night frost is shaking
© Copyright: Тея Арис, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №125042907202
Свидетельство о публикации №125042907202
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