Friday's Whims of the Time Traveler 58.0: August 16th, 2007

The Timid Cloud
by Belinda Roddie

“A cloud to shroud my bones!” did cry
A wild but quite precocious child
“For I’ll be warm in summer sky
And if it rains, though I’m not dry
My sins will wash away.”

With that, she scattered seeds across
A soil that people said had lost
Its breath, and yet she still desired
A tree to bore her into sky
And carry her away

And mist did kiss the child’s brow
But no proud cloud would move to shroud
Her spirit, but one was shy
Alone in a September sky
And moved for once that very day
To carry her away

The work you see here has not been edited nor altered since August 16th, 2007.

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