Poetry from a Time Forgotten for Saturday, April 05, 2008

Saturday, April 5, 2008

Picnic in the Mountains

We sit amidst a powdered landscape, of wild flowers and dancing light on rocks, nothing arduous except the thought of leaving. We’ve brought our picnic, stark checkered red and black patterns stir the hawk’s eye. No sound except nature’s radio on high. We look to the chateau of cliffs surrounding... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by Ariala at 3:47 AM | add or view comments (10) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry
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