Where the Clouds Kiss the Sky (c)

At the cloud's edge,

wispy arrows

pierce the sky,

then wander around

like cattle,

seeking a place to rest.

Edgecombe skies

fill me with wonder,

leave me breathless for more,

more inspiration for

my imaginings.

I escape into their beauty,

thinking of the fields of cotton

and tobacco

that once lay beneath them.

Fields where now,

old hands,  

worn down by labor,

can rest a bit.

Field hands remember 

and share family stories

of tying the tobacco 

on strings

to dry.

We lie

in the sun and remember,

  our childhood

on the family farm.

 We smile,

for all we learned there.

 The cloud's edge

turns up,

as if to agree,

to soothe me.

Edgecombe clouds

fill me with wonder.

Reassure me

that all is well.