The late heather blooms In wild array, scent chill fogs Fall’s breeze, through mists, bogs Take hold of moors, mount the heights, Stay, watch summer’s sweet demise.
Image attribution: wikipedia
Written for Jude's The Saturday Symphony #13:"Rhythm of Autumn"
-- Let us go retro this week and share a thought on the season, with rhyme and flow.Sammi's Weekend Writing Prompt: Using the word "Heather" write prose or poem in exactly 27 words
Y’all know there’s red, white, blue Violet, purple and cerulean too Jazzberry jam, purple mountains’ majesty Canary, cornflower and fuzzy wuzzy But strike me dumb if ever you see A spectrum as mind-blowing as ZANY Not even a Crayola box can contain The uncanniness like an outrageous grin For when you happen to chance upon it Everything’s a subject for merry wit!