I have written the second part of my bucolic poem, would anyone please help me touching it up?
Skies signal early autumn; Skies signal early autumn.
Winds gentle yet metal sharp.
In hazy villages beyond city walls and painted bridges,
Summer’s fiery heat retreats,
Gentle coolness breeds.
Drizzling rain wets my cloak.
As one painted barge steers toward the fairy isles.
Tides now rise with stiff winds;
Waves spit flying foam.
White gulls dot the shore.
Now, the wind stills. As the sun sets, sails bob amidst green reeds.
White clouds mute distant battle drums and flutes.
Somewhere, caltrop-pickers’ song rise above this bucolic scene.
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I have written the second part of my bucolic poem, would anyone please help me touching it up?
The skies signal early autumn; The skies signal early autumn.Winds gentle yet metal sharp as metal.
In hazy villages beyond city walls and painted bridges,
Summer’s fiery heat retreats,
Gentle coolness breeds.
Drizzling rain wets my cloak.
As one painted barge steers toward the fairy isles.
Tides now rise with stiff winds;
Waves spit flying foam.
White gulls dot the shore.
Now, the wind stills. As the sun sets, sails bob amidst green reeds.
White clouds mute cover distant battle drums and flutes.
Somewhere, caltrop-pickers’ songs rise above this bucolic scene.
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