Sunday Whirl - Wordle #680
WIND ICY LACE RUINS ANCIENT DRIVE COMMUNES
SPIRITS CURLING CLOAKED STITCHED GROUND
Thanks to The Sunday Whirl for hosting.
I take the liberty of changing the tense of the words if needed.
November wind is spreading a cloaked coldness across the ruins of Autumn.
Gone are the communes of bees and wasps curling like ballerinas above pollen heavy blooms.
The seasons are driven by ancient patterns of change.
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Ripples stitched by geese mar the mirror of chilly ponds.
Spirits are grounded by the icy lace of frosty air.
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These are wonderful photos :-D
ReplyDeleteThanks, I think they are a good portrayal of both the beauty, but the finality also, of Autumn.
DeleteChange is the only constant, it seems?
ReplyDeleteYes. Change happens every day.
DeleteNice photos match up well with your wonderful poem.
ReplyDeleteThank you. It's fun to take part now and then. I am in awe at what some of the people who comment can create. Thanks for stopping by and the gracious comment.
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