A jay was crying in the morning,
hiding among rowan-tree leaves.
The day was rising from the howl,
sluggishly scattering long dreams.
The dawn was blowing sparkling water:
high grass was rocking from cold touches.
It bowed wet heads a little lower
under invisible huge palms.
Grass was so beautiful in sun shine
and looked so frail against the sky.
The jay was jumping on branches, crying,
as this harsh cry could stop the time...
by Thea Ariss
06.07.2026
A jay was crying
© Copyright: Тея Арис, 2026
Свидетельство о публикации №126070607445
Свидетельство о публикации №126070607445
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