The Flying Ship

The Flying Ship

Friday, October 1, 2010

Cotton Sky

Strange place.

Sitting in the sand.

Water, filling crevices, pouring into holes in rocks.

Red crabs scuttle.

And the moon rises through the sunlight.

The clouds, wafting and waving in their patterns.

A cool breeze clings to wet limbs.

Blue, blue, blue cotton sky.



No comments:

Post a Comment