Fall to Winter

Running free
through the leaves
the trees
the barley heaves
a sigh
a silent goodbye
to the sky
looking down with love
as a dove
past smoky flues
billowing hues
of smoke
through the cloak
of the old oak
the creek
at its lowest peak
toward the frosty dawn
settling on
the frozen pond


About NB Gwen

I'm me, I work, I play, I'm a bit unique - but I guess that's all in perspective
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