Morning Quadrille

Usually loathe to linger
In a warm cloud of bedclothes,
Admonished by the cold finger
Of October morning light,
I rose to the song of birds,
Inky swirl of overcast sky
And gentle tumble of words
In a morning quadrille –
So the day began.

© Kim M. Russell, 2016


Another poem for dVerse Poets Pub Quadrille, where we take any meaning of one word and transform it into 44 poetic words. This week, we are writing poems of exactly 44 words (not counting the title), including the word cloud.

24 thoughts on “Morning Quadrille

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