Every day, a photograph, a poem.
The wind picked up a few days ago and the immense branches of the sycamore waved in the breeze, stretching itself and loosening the bark it had outgrown, dropping the thin segments onto the lawn, blanketing our yard with ready made mini-canvases which our grandkids loved to paint.
I miss those days.
Giant sycamoreSheri Edwards
on windy days of summer
releases its bark,
dropping its thin textured shapes
once painted by young grandkids.
Post 863 days in a row
Geeky Gramma ~~
Retired Middle School Language Arts/Media Teacher ~~
Writer and Thinker~~
Art from the Heart