no one looked up that morning
as the thick round underbellies
of cloud beasts
drifting along
in their ancient migration
were lit the kind of pink
that made you wonder whether
the sunrise stole it from the flowers
or the flowers stole it from the sunrise-
the powdered magenta drifts
seemed unaware
of eyes down below
gazing in awe of up above,
in awe of what’s happened
daily since the Earth
had eyes with which to see-
even though dozens of eyes,
block after city block
stayed lowered
to the ground
with chilly feet
washed in pink,
not noticing-
seeing only
the gray of a world as ugly
they chose it to be.
Alone with my own
chilly pink feet
and drifting sky beasts,
keeping my eyes upward and outward,
I searched for the warmth of meaning
beyond the gray.
Renee Novosel
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