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A poem, tonight

"The Hints of Incoming Weather: recorded on SE Hawthorne the night of Tuesday, Sept. 6th, 2016"

Low clouds in the night seem to give the sky lumps.
Light-spill rising from the city defines those lumps; unexpected positive space
In what normally is negative.
That shape will not be there later.
That shape will evolve, metamorph, more
In its hint-of-orange definition.
Maybe it will later birth rain;
It had drizzled on and off.
The clouds highlight horizon-shapes
More subtly than in the sharp relief of day,
Distortingly also: the horizon seems closer.
Winds not necessarily noticeable at ground level are felt by the clouds, not by us
And mold the view and the moisture held within it.

— written 9/6/2016-9/11/2016