Author John Moncure Wetterau Fresh air, faintly salty,smell of bark and fallen apples,small pond, lily pads,dark water. White blossomstinged with ruby, floating,heavy with light.You enter one, still searching.Slowly,petals fold around you. Deer Isle, Maine Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments