Every chimney in town
is puffing away
this Saturday morning.
It’s -8 degrees F.
Mt. Forist is a frozen
gray elephant
sleeping in front
of my face.
Then the sun hits
it smack on the head
like an egg
splashing into it.
I watch the yolk
slowly spread
over its hide
down, down
until it’s flowing
into my living room.
I scoop it up
with the spoon
of my imagination
and pour it
into a poem.
Time for an omelette.
17 comments:
Not over easy, either!
I loved this...starting with your 'gray elephant' image.
Thanks!
This was delightful to read...so clever! The imagery was fantastic.
oh, your poem is wonderful~ Stay warm!
Linda love the visual of this poem....excellent, even garnered a chuckle!
Hugs Giggles
The sun into an egg, and then an omelet. You have me smiling tonight. Unique take on the prompt.
A feast for you and for us thanks to the splendid alchemy of your poetry.
wonderful imagery dear!
such creative thoughts! writers always do!
thanks for the summer!
Wow. This is going to be the best ever omlette
Brrrr! I left my snow shovels in Manchester when I moved to Texas. Finders are keepers, I won't need them anymore.
I like the sun omlet baked in your poem. We have flowers and holly berries baked in ours here.
..
What a wonderful way to wake up.
I loved this poem.
This made me smile. It's beautiful. Thank you.
Oh, I like your words and images very much. They speak of so many colors like a painting.
Melanie
You can't make them without breaking them.
A delicious poem you've cooked up here! Thanks!
wow...yummy:)...nice one
I love this- so creative! Great interpretation of the prompt!
Amazingly dynamic and fluid, the juices are flowing even in -8 degree weather.
Enjoyed the whimsy!
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