the moonkissed fluffy whitesilver clouds
sink into bluesilver
in the lingering twilight, just before dawn
arrives
there are stars.
still out
as the redsilver light
yellows the brightening Eastern sky
against the mountains
the mountains hold
the dawn, back
and fuck
ain't it pretty?
a whole crowd and procession
of clouds
all different cloud creeds
and cloud races
the puffed-out big round guys
some bottom-flattened with tops like cottage cheese
and little bitty ones like pulled-apart cotton balls
stuck here and there with long cotton tails of steam
trailing off in different directions
and high arcing wisps, wafting across the top of heaven
made of ice
there are
a few odd ones - big and big around,
like a thick fat slice of tornado,
a section of funnel, sliced right from the middle
but gentle, though - minding their tempers
amidst this mixed crowd gathered to meet the sun
but at first, though! You could barely see them all
wallflowers, shying, waiting, not wanting attention yet
merged as they were into the silver backdrop, all of the sky
squeezed into one distance
a surface of infinite shallowness
then, just beginning to pick out the shapes
from the highlights
as they
- their faces,
begin to glow, they
begin to stand out,
against
the sky behind them
brightening
from bluesilver
brightening
to yellow
brightening
to rose
and soon
to be blue
ah!
here it comes
sink into bluesilver
in the lingering twilight, just before dawn
arrives
there are stars.
still out
as the redsilver light
yellows the brightening Eastern sky
against the mountains
the mountains hold
the dawn, back
and fuck
ain't it pretty?
a whole crowd and procession
of clouds
all different cloud creeds
and cloud races
the puffed-out big round guys
some bottom-flattened with tops like cottage cheese
and little bitty ones like pulled-apart cotton balls
stuck here and there with long cotton tails of steam
trailing off in different directions
and high arcing wisps, wafting across the top of heaven
made of ice
there are
a few odd ones - big and big around,
like a thick fat slice of tornado,
a section of funnel, sliced right from the middle
but gentle, though - minding their tempers
amidst this mixed crowd gathered to meet the sun
but at first, though! You could barely see them all
wallflowers, shying, waiting, not wanting attention yet
merged as they were into the silver backdrop, all of the sky
squeezed into one distance
a surface of infinite shallowness
then, just beginning to pick out the shapes
from the highlights
as they
- their faces,
begin to glow, they
begin to stand out,
against
the sky behind them
brightening
from bluesilver
brightening
to yellow
brightening
to rose
and soon
to be blue
ah!
here it comes
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