Eventually bruised skies heal…
but not before the storm arrives.
It starts off slowly, gathering
cotton ball clouds now dipped in ink.
Such ominous light belies that
eventually bruised skies heal.
Rain…pittering, then pattering,
soon pelting; jabbing like needles.
Bellows from otherworldly bowels
partner jagged bolts to announce,
eventually bruised skies heal.
A last gust exhausts its fury.
Shyly, sun peeks through shades of blue.
Clearing; a transformative arc
tied up in bows of the spectrum
…eventually bruised skies heal.
By Sarah ©2024
W3 Prompt #122:
Wea’ve Written Weekly
By Sarah 
Love this one, Sarah. Well done.
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Wonderful imagery in this one Sarah, ‘eventually bruised skies heal’, so slowly into that time when ‘shyly, sun peaks through shades of blue’ and the rainbow – a positive transformation message – lovely
💞Suzanne
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Thank you so much 😊
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Sarah, this is stunning. Wonderful. And the rhythm. Wow. Thanks.
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What beautiful pictures, both photographic and poetic!
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Thank you so much 😊
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My pleasure!
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Sarah – this is so good!! You rocked this form ❤
~David
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I especially love this line: “cotton ball clouds now dipped in ink.”
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Thank you 😊
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