The sunrise looked like a landscape.
My windowshield, its frame.
The white mountains a masterpiece
Under the sky’s orange flame.
The sunrise looked like a landscape.
Each moment a new image unfolds.
With fields of frost sparkling silver
In the dawn’s sunlight of gold.
The sunrise looked like a landscape,
Painted by a master’s hand.
A study of nature’s majesty.
A reverent worship of the land.
Bringing Mae Flowers 
Leave a comment