True, the sugar tops sweeten everyone's mouth. Hold onto the salt though let's not lose out.
Pinches of sea salt dancing smash hit deep down the sea floor ace extracting ice cores, boom, the clouds form high, show the upside is sky!
Jubilant cumulus pop only crystal clear vibes let the wind see through that sings the rhymes.
Oops, it's not always a blue sky wispy white clouds turn dark. The storm soars the larks fly low busy men down the trees seek refugee for a mo.
Sticking my head under a roof pondering me find a room. Is this 'smash hit high sail of the clouds rising from deep core, all is gone in a blink of a storm'.
Not far in the sky nor deep down the sea. I see a raindrop on a shining flower before me. Something more to tell very closely!
I was reading Seamus Heaney's The Death of a Naturalist poem lately. Few daws later I wrote this poem.