Dear Celestine,
Cliffside like half-sheared sheep,
clouds that diffuse when steeped,
steaming out the sky as snow, white-out
retracting your mountainous glow.
Oh Celestine,
The whole hillsides been bourgeoisied,
a golf course of putting greens,
your lake an evaporating puddle,
a watering hole for the overpowering jungle
barely reflecting back peaks and sky,
the unseen picture frames of our lives;
the wrapping paper of our dreams.
This poem is written for for Sarah’s Poetic’s topic on d’Verse tonight, which is the color blue. I was in awe of the blue mountains, sky, and lakes of Switzerland and that inspired this verse thinking about how blue frames everything.
Yard Sale of Thoughts 
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