Cloud
To the north a vanilla cloud anvils upAs summer heat draws her to the stratosphere
There's rain in her for those below
But from my vantage she just aglow
With summers soft and lovely hew
As I sit quietly to the south and watch
Her transit in gentle change that morphes
From fanciful to dread
Poetry by josephus
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Written on 2018-08-04 at 02:47
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