Inhalation

Last breath of summer
expands autumn's golden lungs; 
winter can whistle.



  
Written for my adaptation of the Jackson Pollock chosen by Tess today, for her Mag 290

The Pact

Among the clouds an angel flies

in swift retreat from stormy skies.

The heaven’s sun-gold glow of light

spreads its path; to our delight

this promises that, after rain,

its beams will bless the land again.

So it has been since time began,

this pact between both god and man 

and natural law’s perfected plan.

With thanks to the prompt this week from Tess at MagpieTales.  I took a tiny snippet from the photo, then kept this down to a mere 55 words, in memory of G-Man.