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Tuesday, February 23, 2016

Winter Morning





Daybreak pretends
a tepid critique 
enclosed by 
brisk flake
and frost-laden sod
as winter sun glows
flesh between 
ocean mist
and steel blue.




She asked: "What is the color of apricot?"  I believe I showed her.   
Pamela A. Lamppa 
Copyright © 2016
All Rights Reserved

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Impression





I fold,
rush to undulate
beneath your swell,
billow 
at the crest 
of heated curl,
and break 
within your
white-capped 
surge.



dare I make a ripple ...
Pamela A. Lamppa 
Copyright © 2016
All Rights Reserved

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Intimations





She turns a whisper
and the air cools 

 gently. 

 Spring haze drifts
between the glint
of iris reflections 
bending 
within ripples.

 I know this place 
of yesterday's glimmer
and bleed memory 
for its taste. 



Pamela A. Lamppa 
Copyright © 2016
All Rights Reserved

Posted by at No comments:
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