So perfectly still was the sky
on this beckoning winter's night.
Beautifully stranded in a string of pearls
weaving their way through opal clouds,
which dressed up a cotton candy sky.

Lacerated wafers of wind
licked barren treetops
shadowing the crisp winter air.

Jack Frost could not resist tasting
fall’s final fermented fragments
while wind whispered secrets
into my ear through my hair.

I spied a solitary star hanging
like a bright cabin porch light
turned on too early
so as not to serve any real purpose.

So very still this sky
that my steadfast gaze
locked on that star.
Alone, strangely unblinking,
it too seemed to meet
my locked and inquisitive gaze.

This shifting sky,
such poetry in motion
filled my hungry, searching soul
silently with wondrous words.

It was more like a string
of whistling wind thoughts.
The type of thoughts that tend
to drift lazily over a pastel sky
that has seen far too many dying sunsets.

I too often get whisked away
in wind wisped clouds
atop a cotton candy sky,
as this winter one-eyed sky.

Seems we both serve no real purpose
except to remind others
of the wonder of creation
and to give pleasure to others.

This shifting sky,
such poetry in motion
filled my hungry, searching soul
silently with wondrous words.

It was more like a string
of whistling wind thoughts.

~*~

Poetry in Emotion...
Well done, Sharon