Category: Art

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.