Clouds drift in night’s sky,
Stretching,
As if yearning,
To touch the horizon,
Dawn yet hours away–
She neither “walks in beauty
Like the night” as Byron wrote
Nor does she stand upon a scallop shell
Riding the sea foam to shore
As Botticelli painted—
No, nothing so over done
Simply, she rises, flaming
Over the desert mountains.
undone in spectacle
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Hearing The Mermaids Sing 
She does rise. Flaming over the mountains. Beautifully written, Annette
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Thank you
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Too good 💫
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Thank you
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