the day
is a pale stretch of
blue in reality
opaquely
a pack of
sick
stranded whales
blue whales that
can only
utter their last
perfect pitch
the clouds are the
wasted
wisps of oxygen
let out
through the closing
blowholes
the gossipy
birds
the usual
curious
crusaders of the
wind are
spectators of
the beached party
at a beach
party
summer skies