A lazy quarter moon,
Smirking, trails
The Ploughs’ shimmering
furrow.
Waves tumble sleepily,
upon the Connemara
shoreline.
The windless night,
lays winter’s Hoare
upon the grass.
You stand, leaning
back into me,
buds blossoming
beneath my fingers…
I shiver!
Chris Birrane ©2011
Comments
Silver Spun Sand | November 5, 2011 - 12:26
Nice one, Chris;-) I like the idea of the moon 'smirking';-)
Tina x