Days Of Gold

Dragonflies hovering, cicadas trilling;

The summer breeze kisses the golden hay, the windmill rotating;

Flaxen shrubs on which buzzing bees perch;

The delectable honey not far away, they need not search.

Sunflowers, happiest;

Blossoming at the edge of the rustic path, the Tuscan sun at noon, highest;

The mustard ripe, the tillers' glee;

Mango of amber bright, growing on many a tree.

Down to the south, the sands aglow;

The waves glisten like gems of fire as they ebb and flow;

Wisps of dandelion and daffodil;

A little bird pecks at the seeds with its bill.

The princess who walks the earth in the hours of May;

Paints the ether with nimbus of marigold tints and dark grey;

As the solar orb sets behind the trunks of oak, the forest drooping at twilight;

A pleasant zephyr does not fail to embrace the June night.

The indigo lake flecked with tangerine hues;

Memories of a joyous day shimmering in the blues;

The reeds bent;

Stark against the disappearing Sol, the gust of a fruity scent.

#Day4 #yellow