Clouds
So touched
By sunlight
And it’s setting
In the west

That they might
Harbour cherubs
In soft folds
And angels blushing orange
Upon the gilded edge.

In vapour robes
Of salmon pinks,
Moist in cirrus’s
Spiritual clothes
And cumulus draped
Upon their bodies

Like light
And sky blue complexions
To make their face
And eye depth
Flawless.

© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015