Veils lift smoking southward, pigeon-blue
and inland appears, flat cut-out layers.
Sunset gashes through just once, bleeds,
and cirrhus blazes a path out north,
toward the dirty pink escarpments there.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Up the road or down, sometimes further afield, often not for long, we're out most days.
2 comments:
Smashing rhythm. Captures the movement of wind and cloud. Tensions of the weather.
What good "action" verbs! Plutarch is right -- the rhythm and word choices are so dynamic.
Post a Comment