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The pulse of freedom

There is a sight I hold dear. A misty morning, a grey veil, green hills in the background, lush and abundant. On the fore, at about 100 feet...

Sunday, November 3, 2019

Haze

In that ashen pallor of landscape,
wearing
not the beauteous wintery-white
but the toxic smokey shroud;
beneath that grey blanket,
that thick, hazy and gloomy spread;
midst that smothered afterglow of twilight,
we experience the quavers of doom.
Is it too late?
We shiver.



Linking with Sammi Cox Weekend Writing Prompt

Welfare unto all
Rab rakha 🤗 🤗 🤗 
at
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