The day is fading into sparkling rays.
The sun glides over darkened trees' high tops.
Frail leaves break light, creating gleaming threads.
Spring evening knits from them a magic cloth.
It wraps a town and everything's in red.
There is not wages of the uneasy wind.
The last spring days have woken frozen land
with rain, arising up grass' sleepy seeds.
The warmth's returned a couple of the white storks.
Ones build again a nestle, which wind broke once.
They bring thin rods, flying upon old homes.
The evening's lighting the pearl moon and stars.
by Thea Ariss
16.05.2025
The last spring days have woken frozen land
© Copyright: Тея Арис, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №125051607246
Свидетельство о публикации №125051607246
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