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.