The sky gives us options.
It exerts pressure so we
may put our hands in pockets,
or a foxglove with its retiring
pistils and clownish stamens.
The sky changes color
offering the chance to slip
from the passionate white
of dreams to the indifference
of black, blank sleep.
The sky offers options
to run for cover,
or stand open and free
to catch the morsels of cloud
The sky gives us options
as do pockets, dreams and rain.
Options
17 Thursday Jan 2013
Posted poems
in
Visual, unusual imagery. I like the sound choices in your careful words. Well crafted, thank you.
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it makes me happy that you like the poem…thank you for taking time to read and comment.
ron
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