My Blue Danube

The Clouds

They waltz to a storm,
burgeoning,

through lightening bustling,
thunder, striking,

in-time for sunset,
gleaming, serene,

where colors beget,
simplicity,

and then the wellspring
of poetry  –
it rained a memory,
der drizzling,

as the sun it shines through
in a hue that's true,
to an iris that's bright and keen.


We love,  live, and  breathe,

as the clouds
they tell us
their dreams …




Picture by, Daniel Kozak Wozny