The sky is dense with it -
this massive fleet of clouds
looming like
ghostly freighters in full sail
before a sluggish wind.
Even the sun
hangs listless -
half-lit,
tilting toward nothing but
eddies of endless
rinse-water gray
The air is swollen with it - this consecrated lust of smothered susurration
the roil and tumble and salt water spew
swallowed
saturated in spitting torrents of ceaseless silence.
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Thanks for writing!
Jacqueline