Opaque, the cloud filled skies and water match,
and meet at colored boats where ripples stroke.
Along the shore, the bows by faith attach
where mud-born prints a journey doth provoke.
A cold spring sun will keeps its gaze turned down
while murky depths depress and make us frown.
So join us now and leave the low behind –
to mountain tops – it’s where we’ve set our mind.
I simply love the photos that I find at Poets United. Today, they served as my lunchtime inspiration for this short poem.