Your hands smell of wood shavings, sun's last grace.
That tawny essence fills all empty space.
I scarcely hear you talk of southbound birds.
Time has gone far beyond the mood of words.
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Reading in total admiration, you have a unique way of expressing yourself as only the very gifted can do.Your Poems are what we need on this planet Sandra. Thank you.
I am fighting hard to be part of that scenario that your mind produces. Wonderful.
This is a timeless piece, an essence of past moments caught by your finely skilled hand Thankyou Sandra Love duncan X
I love the way you have captured the mood in this poem Sandra. Each line and rhyme flows so beautifully to the next, your writing is seamless. Warmest wishes, Justine.
The poem almost a whisper of a secret twitter bird.............she sings alone in a thick bush........beware of cruel hunters!
i really think it was good i got a picture of it as i read it keep it up kelly
Lovely poem Sandra. I love the special touches...............regards.............willow
I love the images Sandra! There is nothing more beautiful in my eyes than nature. Very lovely poem. Sincerely, Mary
Again your thoughts in this poem revolve round the flying birds, fallen leaves, frosting glass, waiting grass, circling smoke and so on. If you come out and go beyond these objects, you may find better things more attrative to your eyes, that will form your popular theme for the next poems to come. Three cheers to you and go ahead writing nice poems like this one.
Leaves whisper, hello, hello to the waiting grass. Aha, Aha! You are truly gifted, my dear poet!