The cold dawn draws my gaze
towards the sky, towards the clouds
which in turn, gaze back at me

I see their soft white faces
lined with the ravages
of winter winds

the dark bruises of the season
though dissonant from their gentle beauty
do not diminish them

there is a plump youthfulness
where they ripple
across the face of the heavens

painted here and there
with the glow of the rising sun
that in time also reveals

the tired and shredded edges
gradually falling away
fading into the day

I can read their moods
in their many faces
and today, I feel they are weary

wishing that the wind
would give them peace
and allow them to rest in place

for just the shortest breath of time
so they can fall back
into the arms of the morning

and while the hours away

© Ann Bagnall