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.
