
Wintery clouds,
cumulus white coats crowd,
try to turn him round
but he returns to mediate,
a floating cross-legg’d saint.
Wintery clouds,
stratus ropes of bowels,
they had to take them out
set them in view by bonnet blue
to pull out baby new.
Wintery clouds,
cirrus gauzy shrouds,
striated steri stripe pain,
but in my arms
skin untouched by sun or rain;
his precious life began.
© khartless 2022, All Rights Reserved
Love this. The imagery and metaphor are fantastic
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Thank you, JYP. Those magical memories are always a bit cloudy, aren’t they?
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So worth all that hassle! 👏
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Yes, indeed. He was a gift from the wintry sky, and I cherish him.
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I am sure you must do. 💖
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Gorgeous. Love your personification of each weather system – super vivid imagery too! ❤
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Thank you kindly, Tom. A wintry sky always takes me back to those late snowflakes and the unconventional arrival of my son. 💜
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You through in alliteration as a cherry on top ! 👏👏
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Thank you, Michelle. 💜
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This is fabulous!! JUst amazing! Thank you
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What a wonderful connection of memories with clouds – love your images K.
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What a gorgeous reminiscence and connection to nature. This is lovely, K. 💜
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Thank you, Jeff. I think despite the dead daffodils, there will be a rebirth of spring soon.💜
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You’re welcome, K. Always. I think so too. 💜
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a metaphoric treat, while I bask in this spring of a 70 degree day!
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Thank you. Enjoy that sweet sunshine. I’m ready for mine and keeping my painted toe nails crossed.
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