For some reason my brain is clicking into another part of my creativity. If that is what you want to call it. Writings!
Some may not call it poetry, or prose, but not schooled in writing I like to give it a try once in awhile. So here are two I wrote awhile back, re-reading them and tweaking some of it.
Lake of Gold
The morning sunrise is mirrored in the lake
like liquid gold
All nature awakens as if on cue.
Large and small birds start their morning ritual
as they skim the golden water,
they land so gently, not wanting to disturb
what is beneath them.
Trees with the morning sun peeking through their green
leafy branches lift up as if to touch the suns' glow.
Dew that was left that evening
begins to disappear from view.
The golden water begins to spread, making wider patches
of its hue on the lake
The sun rises even higher now in the blue sky as a new day begins.
Fog, rolling in like it knows where to go.
Over long stretches of fields, up and down valleys,
through busy streets and fields of clover.
Mostly early morning before the sun sets for the day.
No one sees it arrive, no one knows where it goes.
Fog, it is seen,as a ghostly apparition.