A tepid bite of winter
the sun vanishes and mists
take me into an universe rotating between hills, storm and mountains.
Planes swagger. Dust swathes the earth.
No birds flapping
no wings to fly on
only the clouds like needles point a huge finger, at the sky which has lost all hope.
What are your thoughts on this poem? Leave a comment below. Browse more original contemporary poetry about the human condition, or submit a poem of your own.