Muted orange, blaze of red
amid the summer green
Could any Monet or Seurat
compare to what I've seen
On an early morning ride
in sun-streaked chilly mist?
The siren song of dawn I found
too potent to resist
Forgive this tantalizing scrap,
If not enough to sate
I raced the sun to coffee-time
And now I'm running late
3 comments:
Thanks!
Badass.
If that adjective has never been applied to my riding, at least now I can say it's been applied to my writing.
I thank you, sir!
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