A blue carbon sky.

The appearance of cold metal

pressed between heaven

and the dust of nameless souls.

Ocean winds press the corners of

waters, exciting foamy waves

while washing glass thin over rocks

and fallen branches.

Long thin gray clouds,

fingers without hands,

stretch like spilled arrows

pointing to no place;

they fade without resistance

to a rising sun.

Windows open. Curtains lick at fresh air.

Doors unlock and screen doors

slap with motion.

A favorable breeze suggests a fair day.

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