i beat that wily guy up
this morning, up and running
{one…two…three}
before he could take a peak,
could tweak the sky into some
scorched August rust.
trust me,
i’d rather sleep,
but i just keep
{swimming, swimming, swimming)
pounding pavement
in search of blue.
the sky’s the thing
in all her morning bling,
slung low and waiting
for some brighter thing
to rise.
surprise. these clouds
are witnesses, noble gray
wisps of thought
caught against all this
haze.
..
Whimsygizmo's Blog 
Gorgeous, De! I love,
‘the sky’s the thing
in all her morning bling,
slung low and waiting
for some brighter thing
to rise.’
I began to picture the sun as a golden woman in high heels.