by Ethel Mortenson Davis
On my walk
this morning
I reached down to pick
a sacred-colored blossom,
but hummingbird flew out!
I’ll leave this table
for you.
by Ethel Mortenson Davis
On my walk
this morning
I reached down to pick
a sacred-colored blossom,
but hummingbird flew out!
I’ll leave this table
for you.
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry