Where floating clouds are stained,
Strange madness penetrating skies –
Darkness thickening before billows
Rays have no beam or wink
Between leaves, no trace of
Plume lingers in high tops
Swift breath of invisible breeze
Bakes in heat, dust lingering on
Polluted surface; time accelerated,
Too late for a cure.
Or maybe I'm a feathered ghost
Interwoven with migrating birds,
Carried through a ruptured mantle;
To where soul can rest in peace.
Pixabay free to use image.
Updated and written previously under