The mountain range sat solidly,
spread out under
the periwinkle sky, the clouds
sitting causally
like sourdough bread on the countertop,
warm from the oven,
both healing hearts,
like a spiritual storefront
offering options for the lost and weary.
Hour 11
This is fantastic!!! I’m in love with the imagery of the clouds as loaves of bread, sitting on the mountains like the loaves on the counter, creatively and succinctly portraying the fluffiness and warm comfort of them. Despite the very grounded subject, this poem made it absolutely magical. What a pleasure to read!
Thank you so much for your kind words; it makes me happy that you found it “magical.”