Sheep's Wool Sky
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