Canine Clouds On the Romp

The rescinding caress of simpering sunbeams
Cascade upon the swath of wool draped upon my shoulders and,
Softly filter through the transparent frame,
Until a bandoleer army of clouds snaffles across the sky.
With Q-tip legs clopping forward, cotton ball heads and
White caliper bodies like chasuble poodles in a blue scimitar park,
They shrike in puddles of cinnabar sunlight.
An army of jouncing poodles on the romp,
A grand game of tag, a partially sunny day.
Swallows my sight with chicory shadows cast
From a multitude of padded feet skittering above the rhombus shirr.
Happiness but a shifting shadow, daunt of the chasing tails, curled, vain!
Rotation of axis and beating of heart always pointing beyond the sphere,
to the unseen.
Meanwhile, the blazon sentinel of trees thrushly beholds,
The dog days of summer unfold,
Until the sun shrives forth and scatters canine clouds to the wind,
Swiftly bringing the fragrance of cinnamon, cider, and nutmeg,
A sign that autumn is soon to begin.

Valerie Sapora Rains 2004

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