Shelter in Place Poem, Day 8

Clouds, overnight,

drifted and settled

into spaces not taken

by trees or houses.

They mute the noises

of early morning

(traffic, birds,

coyotes). A mist.

A shimmering.

An airy layer of frosting.

It is a day

to stay home in.

I guess

I’ll stay home

in it.

 

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