The Sun sinks low,
Atop the ridge,
In the distance.
The blue sky fades,
To shades of colour,
Red, purple and yellow galore.
The streaks spread out,
Like lines on a toddlers painting,
No pattern, no rowte.
A hawk calls,
And the wild bore brawls,
As the nighttime animals take hold.
The crickets and cicadas serenade,
And calm us,
While we sip our lemon-aid.
We sit on the back porch,
And listen to the owl call,
While an animals footsteps fall.
It is times like these,
When I am proud to say,
That I am born and raised country.
Poetry©Nolan_LaValley®\™20/05/2018™®©
As usual, spelling mistakes were intentional. I do that alot, don't I? Lol. Well, this was a different poem if I don't say so mysef. I, honestly have no idea about the style, but if you know what type of this poem this is, please let me know. Thanks. So,...what did you think? Please hit that little star to show your support and please leave a comment with your feedback. Thank you. :-)
ESTÁS LEYENDO
Infinite thoughts.|✅
PoesíaPoetry of all types. From my early writings of poetry, when I was just starting to explore the genre. --------------- Thank you guys for checking out this poetry collection. This contains poems ranging from diverse free verses to poorly written haik...
