Today came rain, through a clear blue sky.
Today, the mists
Rose from rock and wave,
Rose from crash and spray;
Pine and birch told secrets
On a mountain’s face.
Today came birds; their wings are pages,
Their wings color ink
Their song is the rustle
Of turning pages.
Their rush of wings brings rain,
Mist and sea, the trees of winter
The trees of spring;
Secrets told, secrets read
From a mountain’s face.
Skeleton At The Feast 
Beautiful always…
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Thank you, I’m glad you enjoyed!
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A whole passel of cool and refreshing images! “Whole passel” being a technical term, you understand. 🙂
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Rainstorms always seem to mean more than words can say – but that doesn’t mean don’t try!
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I like your poetry.
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Thank you, that means a great deal. I’m glad you enjoy.
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