Friday, October 21, 2005

A Redress of Clouds

They came from the east, riding
toboggans of mist; a diaspora
of low ceilings curled upwards,
wind beaten into lofty meringue peaks.

In the forefront were gauzy wisps;
long, flat streaks stretched north to south
along a meridian line. At the horizon
of sea and sky, a thick, titanium tongue
lolled against cobalt skin -
an abomination of fall weather.

Thirty minutes later they deliquesced,
except for one towering column
that refused to succumb, unplagued -
a grotesquely shaped serpent
rising up in a zed. In time,
its crooked steeple was blown apart
chunk by chunk. It toppled without grace.

By the end of the day they reversed,
headed back the way they’d come,
as though God had sucked all his breath back in
as I witnessed from beneath the sun.

copyright by Cookala, all rights reserved.


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