The cloud-trail bends across
a measureless blue ceiling
as if it were trying to spell things out,
convey to us advance-warning
a cosmic wink-of-the-eye jetting
through deep blue veins
this stoic messenger, biting its tongue
lest it give away the ending
lest it play spoiler: boiling over to flood
the deep blue with blood red
or worse: devolving on a stock-obvious
watered-down cliché of itself
no, this bending trail codifies a soothsaying more subtle,
one hinting at the need to weather hard days
of standing fast before storms yet to spin,
having read the oblique sky warnings
like an open book ~
Dave Boeckhouty has been writing fiction, creative non-fiction, historical studies and poetry for many moons. His most recent publication appeared in The Chaffey Review. He lives on the hip east-side of Atlanta with his beautiful wife, dogs, cats, guitars and 1000s of well-worn books.
