NaPoWriMo 2019 Day 8
Remnants of Shock
Withered branches, bony fingers,
scrape a sea of forever cloud.
Ash falls in soft snow clumps,
embracing land with quiet tenderness.
Look down, to where knotted roots
erupt from the carpet of grey.
Imperceptible at first, your eyes
adjust: new scattered flecks of green.
All the poems I wrote last year are available as an ebook for free. It's called Lost in April Fog and you can download it here.