Slippery bits of precipitation, curling and clamoring across
different levels of the atmosphere, they are
temporary fossils casting sedimentary shadows over
ocean, tilled earth and urban sprawl.
In the early evening and earlier morning, they become
chameleons confused against the darkened blue – instead
of hanging like oxygen rich bruises, black and swollen,
they oscillate from plum to blush to saffron.
Like a woman, their offerings shift, only a guess may
predict: cool fingertips of shade in heat,
tiny hard palms of water slapping the earth
or a million tiny Icaruses, ebbing ponderously down.
© Danielle Wick 2011