Feather Petals drawing

So, remember the sonnet I wrote for my creative writing class? Well, if you don't, I posted it again. I decided to draw a picture of it.



The branches of the tree alone at dawn
Stand covered in white flowers thick and soft
As downy cotton clouds the heavens don.
There is no breeze to touch the sky aloft,

Yet one white cluster flutters, puffing out.
As though a summons calling to the bud,
A ripple stirs, as sudden as a shout.
With every flower frothing in a flood

Of feathers, beaks, and softly coated wings
Awakened by the morning beams of light
As gentle as the coming of past springs
The roost of doves prepares to take its flight.

The winging flurry taking to the air
And leaves the tree behind, its branches bare.