…of the season

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