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.