The clouds move
Past sky blue
Like snow drifts
In Wisconsin winters
Leaving only open
Burrow holes seen
Lower clouds hang
Like large spider
Webs as jet
Planes fly through
Fields of tall
Greens and soupy
Moss stand across
From me as
Wet streets purr
Under car tires
Here in Charlotte
And finally the
Sun has broken
Through like search
Lights during the
Blitzkrieg illuminating the
Giant green trees
Marching slowly towards
Me each heavy
Step uprooting ground
Cover scattering birds
And bunnies but
Now they stand
In pastoral surrender
Now the sky
Resembles my
Grandfathers beard gray
Wispy with patches
Of orange as
Low sun skittles
Across its cheeks
Blue dodges in
And out like
Balloons in Central
Park bumping into
White here now
Clouds above me
Swirl about like
Soapy suds swirling
Down the kitchen
Sink hawks soar
On invisible winds
High above as
Tall trees stand
Guard like thin
Helmeted soldiers or
Green umbrellas in
Fruity drinks the
Air is thick
With the stereo
Of bird calls
And tweets tickling
From afar as
Charlotte wakes up
There’s a dampness
This morning like
A freshly showered
Bathroom that hangs
Like freshly laundered
Shirts and misty
Spider webs cling
To tall trees
The air smells
Like wet cement
And dirt little
Glass ornaments teeter
On leaves and
Leap onto clothing
Saturating it duck
Calls echo in
The distance as
Charlotte awakens a
Freshly bathed child
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 