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Up in the Morning

Mar 10
1 min read

Up, hear the odd calls

It may be a burble, or the scatter of animal chatter

Press your fingers into tools or bricks forming words

While grey, then black, then still skies spool ahead.

 

By J.W.H. Hobbs.

 
 
 

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All original poetry intellectual property of J.W.H. Hobbs. Photographs taken by J.W.H. Hobbs.

Consistency. Effort.
Passion.

Business Email for Nemean Writing: j.w.h.hobbs22@gmail.com 

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