The haze of heat rises from the baking fields.
It pushes and rushes up, up -
Lifting the clouds into towers.
A massive, white anvil fills the western sky,
And in the silent, portentous hush,
Before the Smith lowers his hammer,
A hawk hangs,
Perched between heat waves
And rushing storm,
Floating.
8 comments:
beautifully written and certainly appropriate for the weather we have been seeing.
Simply beautiful :)
The imagery in this was beautiful! And the photo is stunning.
Very nice!
Yes. Oh, yes.
That's what I call creative imagination.. just beautiful.. Thanks for visiting.. join me in practicing happiness..
You captured that moment perfectly.
So beautiful..
Tentacles
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