Seasons Of The Canopy

Seasons Of The Canopy Once a patchwork of hues,Arms cradle grays and bluesAs winter’s frosty breezeSets free the last of leaves.Canopy, there is no moreFor it now carpets the floor. A’last the sun grows in strengthWhile the days grow in length.With the canopy still amissThe hidden become opportunists.A brilliant show of pinks and whitesDot theContinue reading “Seasons Of The Canopy”