Winter morning

I jounce past the birse
Of hedges griseous with frost
Where cold throstles sike.

This haiku is based on the friday five at poefusion, where Michelle is challenging us to write a poem with the following rather unusual words:

jounce – to move with a jolting motion
birse – bristle or bristles
griseous – dappled with grey
throstle – a thrush
sike – to sigh (among other things)

White clouds, blue sky… blue clouds, white sky

The wall of a church in Granada, Nicaragua.

Lots of amazing skies to be discovered over at Skywatch Friday…