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  • leah soro skinner

Sheep's Wool Sky

It’s raining.

The sky the color of sheep's wool.

Not quite white or gray or brown.

Almost uniform in color.

Seen from my perch

On the soft couch

Under my pitched roof.

As the drops quench the earth

So in need of rain

The aspen leaves quaking

As each drop rolls down its tender body.

The sweetness of soft rain

A pleading with me to slow down

Root into the comfy couch

To quench my dry body

From all the going and doing

Rain falling almost imperceptible

Except for its tickle on the skin.

The sky soft and low

As if hugging me

Lulling me to curl up in its sheep's wool

And rest.


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berlin, germany | lsoroskinner@gmail.com |

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