Clouds can rain, but Pieces of metal are pure.
The cloud pricked its finger on a piece of steel yesterday
and bled water for 5 hours on the millions of pedestrians below.
The steel was a tower of electricity
and a symbol of weight.
Pedestrians crowd it with footsteps, suits and ties.
Paper and pencil scrawl over it
changing its shape over and over again.
The cloud held it in its arms
regardless of its attack
and stayed for several days
its presence soft and sultry.
The steel burned a bright color orange and felt itself caving in.
Cloud, feet, rain.
~Samantha Levin
{who hopes this contribution does not stray too far from the goal of this
list.}
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