Her red silk scarf
tossed aside in passion
lies still on dew kissed grass.
A slight breeze unfurls,
curls beneath its folds
ripples flow from edge to edge.
The morning storm
not expected,
rolls in stronger gusts.
Gossamer strands arc
higher and higher still
until vivid crimson
shatters darkened skies.
lillian the home poet 
The scarf – sheer and poetic fibers running into a breathing seaward scene…this was just lovely.
am:)
I love your pink floppy beach hat photo, Lillian
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Thanks much!
I loved describing this. Changed the title at the suggestion of a friend during this trip – to get closer to the real description of the feeling. Me thinks my passionate metaphor was too hidden within the scarf….. But I do like it as written too 🙂
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ah, passionate metaphors, forever linking deepest thoughts with sublime imagery 🙂
’twas a thing of beauty you ‘threaded’ 🙂
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