As blues turn a tangerine orange,
dusk surrounds each of us with the promise
of another day, soon to peak through
the leaves of this old tree, reaching,
straining, but never able to feel blue.
How small is the tree, as the sun radiates,
warmth engulfing everything with the hope
that the vastness of existence pours through
everything with a purpose that we, reaching,
straining, are never able to understand?
In response to Sue Vincent’s #WritePhoto prompt.

I owe a thank you to Christine Bolton, whose “tangerine clouds” I couldn’t get out of my mind. Check out her poem!
Thanks for joining in this week, Phillip. Beautifully descriptive. Love the image of the tree never touching blue.
(The images for the challenge are always my own work for the copyright/attribution 🙂 )
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Thanks so much – and I’ll be sure to credit your photos correctly!
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🙂
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such a lovely poem!
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Why, thank you!
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You’re most welcome!
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A beautiful poem. Lovely imagery
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Thanks so much!
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