Summer Snows
Off in the distance on top of the hill
above the sun-baked pine trees,
the late afternoon sun splashes against the
silken white alabaster clouds that ride along,
floating in the crispy summer skies
against the dark blue firmament
in the gallery in the eyes of the beholder.
Winter snows that cover the hills
in the heat of summer
in their deceiving magic
enter into the picture as the
unassuming virgin clouds
dressed in a white chiffon
with silver wheels slowly churning,
move in a poetic manner like a hurricane
as seen from high above it;
its rare beauty seen only for a moment
until the nocturnal blanket covers them up
as they sleep in peace through the night.
Goodby clouds in the crispy skies,
a lullaby for the sensations gone by,
the falling of the lofted dreams,
the helium seeping out of them,
the touchdown upon the earth,
back to the grind of life with
the anxious anticipation to see them again,
back to the drama of the prosaic skies,
a poem without the air to breathe,
a song without harmony to keep it afloat,
and a blanket to cover up the poetic skies.
Come back again
and massage my anxious heart
and give me the words to write,
the words that abandoned me
when nighttime fell and
took away my inspiration.
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