Here’s a scrap of rhyme from one of my notebooks, Wordle #124, from last October’s prompt in MindLoveMisery’s post. I would apologize for the delay, but here it is anyway….better late than never.
A grey Cygnet has lost its Mum
adrift on a branch of fennel.
A tad of soft nectar escaped from a bloom
inexplicably left by a passing Sparrow…
serves well as emergency forage
against hunger pangs, until Mama’s return
to bandage the Cygnet’s distress.
The sunlight reflects beams of light
which belie the clarity of vitrified matter
embodied in clear bubbles of resin.
© Sometimes, 2017