Monday Poem

almost without metaphor

clouds this morning cross two
adjacent mountains tinged with
bluegrey and pink, they move deliberately
in a swift west wind not like anything
but migrating water vapor
held by hydrogen bonds,
the cooler the better, they glide
over pine, hemlock, oak, and spruce
being networks of misted h-2-o.
the pine, hemlock, spruce, and oak
will drink to satiation if graced by clouds
meeting more frigid air and rain falls
not like anything but clear liquid
that has found itself in a bowl
of gravity

Jim Culleny
© 5/21/19