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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