Summer Messenger

The air is tacky
against my skin
like fingers
against new paint
not
quite
dry,
an unsettling soup
to fill the
purple belly
of clouds
scraping low
over the western
mountains, destined
for digestion
then an expulsion
of shouts and claps
of thunder

Author: OdinsBard

Writer, author, Navy vet, musician, intermittent mystic, old soul and practicing poet

2 thoughts on “Summer Messenger”

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