Sunday, June 21, 2015

What The Clouds Told Me

What The Clouds Told Me

The grey clouds told me
to reach high, touch them.
They felt like the cold mist
from a perfume bottle,
tasted the metallic taste
of pollution.

Then they fell, heavier than
they looked, hitting the
trees of jewelled colors,
losing their flavor,
absorbing the nutmeg
of the golds, the cinnamon
of the burnt reds.

They twisted, blended
together to make the scent
of fuzzy sweaters and
flannel PJs, of a favorite
movie and a warm quilt.
Finally swirling scent and
flavor upward to form the
song of an autumn sky.

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