Remnant of the lover’s swoon
Hanging high in the morning sky
Traces of last night's full moon
Gossamer glimpse seen by few
Sky of baby blue
Dotted with white billowing clouds
Steam rising from the river near bye
No hustle, no bustle, no crowds
Bare trees whispering for the spring
Cold breezes shivering to the bone
In the distant I can hear her sing
A beautiful sound and then off she has flown
Spreading her tiny wings
Free and gliding on winter’s chill
Hoping for the warmth that flowers bloom brings
Nature’s beauty written with a golden quill
Patricia Gale
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-winter-s-morn-2/
