Saturday, July 28, 2012

Clouds in Maine

A bowl of blue crowded with lumps of white
Rough edges blending together
Blocking the noonday sun.
Clear liquid notes of birdsong
Pierce the quiet sky,
Soft mournful cooing falls from the trees.
Dancing with unseen winds,
The clouds embrace then part
In vast doe-si-does.
Clouds blanching the surface of the dark water,
A poor reflection of the sky's grandeur.
Greyness grows until it release tear drops
That ripple the surface with sorrow.

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