~

the

skies breath

aloud their sighs

as county-sized clouds

tower o'er the countryside

severed by the mountain's scythe

remnants scattered now like little spies

no hope of rebound to their former glory

only obliterated slices now the sun can’t hide

clouds reduced to skyscraper size must now suffice

and on it goes, cumulus fingers sliced by lofty granite spires.

~

*post script.

just a playful mix
of mindless alliteration
with a bit of concrete.