early spring
one last brown leaf
lands into the water, and sails away
23 April 2014
Picked on 8 April ’14
By atreewalker
About atreewalker
It was a warm spring morning in the olive grove. The breeze was gentle, the air was fragrant, the time stood still. High grass, sprinkled with colourful small-headed flowers, was gently tickling my knees. Poppies were about to splash their intense red on the antic ruins. 'Look how beautiful it is all over', I whispered to the olive trees, 'a perfect time for a stroll.' I slipped my fingers into the open palms at the end of their branches and I took them for a walk.
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This entry was posted on Wednesday, April 23rd, 2014 at 9:48 am and tagged with haiku, kripalu, photography, poems, poetry and posted in Haïkus, Travel journal/Carnet de voyage. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.
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It was a warm spring morning in the olive grove. The breeze was gentle, the air was fragrant, the time stood still. High grass, sprinkled with colourful small-headed flowers, was gently tickling my knees. Poppies were about to splash their intense red on the antic ruins. 'Look how beautiful it is all over', I whispered to the olive trees, 'a perfect time for a stroll.' I slipped my fingers into the open palms at the end of their branches and I took them for a walk.
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