A dreary winter morning
metamorphoses with the fell
swoop of a jay, a flash of cobalt
among damp fox-brush bracken
and berries lit up like Christmas lights
left hanging long past Twelfth Night.
The garden seethes with moisture
but a chink of peachy sunshine
spreads its wings and smiles
on this January Sunday.
Kim M. Russell, 2018
My response to Poets United Poetry Pantry #385