There is leaf litter strewn all over.
The crow doing its
has dropped white patches,
here and there.
The heat and accompanying
humidity seem to hang around,
refusing to leave.
A lone 'attention seeking' crow,
high up on its favourite,
green swaying ledge,
has been repeating
its chorus line,
almost hitting the half century mark
since the first glimpse of dawn
but all these grumblings lie forgotten,
as I stand and stare from afar,
at what looks like
a piece of coloured,
framed against a green background,
as a glorious morning
opens its curtains.