Tuesday Morning, Dreaming the Blues Away

17 02 2009

I want to blow away
in these dandelion days.

A spore wandering –
white light parachute –
landing far

The clouds dip
low and white in mountain valleys
that have forgotten,
through years of chapped afternoons,
the cool grasp of mist,

I will lie under them
in sudden wildflowers,
and bloom
cerulean fields,

the hum of bees,
hushed whispers of long grass,

in the sky


cumulous, cirrus, altostratus




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