Strange I think the view out my window is pretty.
The window is covered with individual drops of rain
The lane is muddy, the remaining snow is dirty.
The sky is gray, the silage on the ground smelly.
Humidity is 96, temperature is 34, with
Bare arms of trees shivering in the wet cold.
All seems old, so old.
But individual blades of grass have a tint of green...
A promise perhaps of things unseen.
The view out my window IS pretty.

by Joy Steele

Other poems of JOY STEELE (3)

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