Coyote
clouds soon come to pass
through shapeless, magnificant laps
which curl around the Harvest moon
black masses hang suspended doom
while constellations peak way
soaking amongst the dim and gray
fluorescent canopys they lay
prepping infinity for the coming day
as fog climbs up silhouetted crop
and slithers down the mountains' top
still darkened by the moons' surrender
to the charging sun, reclaiming it from under
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
