Cloudy
A poem by B.J. Buckley

Cloudy

Sky rubbed white
by wind’s chill thumb.

Mulies ghosting up
out of the sage,
sheep in the gullies –
fog of their voices,
their dirty wool,
needle-rime
on the bobwire fences.

Old sheepdog,
eyes milky with cataract,
listening
with her belly
to the grass.

About the Author:

B.J. Buckley (she/her) has worked in Arts-in-Schools/Communities Programs throughout the West and Midwest for more than four decades.  She lives with her sweetheart, dogs, and far too many cats, in the beer barley country of north central Montana. For more info and poems, visit her website,  wild4verses.wixsite.com/b-j-buckley

Poetry Breakfast publishes a new poem every weekday morning.
If you’d like your poems considered for publication visit our Poetry Submissions page.

Follow Poetry Breakfast
Facebook