This week I offer another poem about hope. It’s been on my mind a lot lately. One morning last week I woke to a sea of fog swirling through the trees, the grass, the trail path. Later it lifted, leaving the world just a little different. I also read a bit about the tanka, that 5-7-5-7-7 structure that starts with an image, transitions in the third line, and ends with a personal response.
a blanket of silver grass
mist slowly rising
the world looms large and brighter
spirits soar on silent hope
Thanks, Heidi, for this week’s poetry roundup. Looking forward to reading!