Saturday Morning’s Souls Stroll

In the gray of early morn

Just as the sky begins to lighten

I walk the marsh trail.

Plumes of frosty breath

Precede me.

The quiet is broken by

The sound of my boots

Upon the fallen branches

And needles.

A pair of mourning doves

Take flight, in a flutter

Of whistling wings.

With the rising sun,

A new day begins.




11 thoughts on “Saturday Morning’s Souls Stroll

  1. I believe I could hear the crunch on the pine needles. And could see your breath coming out in frosty puffs. I wondered if there was a scent of a wood burning stove somewhere near?

    This is a wonderful descriptive Soul Stroll! Thank you for sharing this. 🙂

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