Friday, 28 November 2008

Up the road, early evening, sky.

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.

2 comments:

Plutarch said...

Smashing rhythm. Captures the movement of wind and cloud. Tensions of the weather.

Bee said...

What good "action" verbs! Plutarch is right -- the rhythm and word choices are so dynamic.