Clouds of Chimera

at the edge of the earth's cold crust
one hundred cinnamon crows
fell from their copper cages
settling around the crumbling calm
their feathers started to cascade carelessly
slowly mutating into tiny cambric cherubs
that flew into the cyan clouds
their wings flapping in citrus chills
sweeping everything into their crustal circle
assimilating everything in cardiac cuttings
until we are all mere shimmers in their celestial constellation


Others in the series that I have written:
A is for...Alone
B is for...Ballad
Visit Karina's Alphabet Soup

Weekend Wordsmith: Chimera