A hill I climb
outside my door
is facing west,
and there I see
your nighttime clouds,
netted all in gold.
And from the western
oblate Earth
when spun around halfway,
the gold that limns my clouds
sifts on me, too,
and gleams my day.
A sift of gold
falls on my head
and dusts itself
into my heart,
those mornings when I read you.
© h/m/q, Mar 2006
content, design, graphics and artworks © 1998 - 2006 Heather
Quinn, WindyHill Design,
All rights reserved
Contact: heather@windyhilldesign.net
| Last update: March 2006