She traces after the sun,

runs her hand along an arc

of warmth left behind.

Scatters clouds into fragments,

dips into the depth of herself,

the swell of an expanse unmeasured,

often mistaken for shallow

by craned necked mouths staring

at her empty fullness.

Written for tonight’s Quadrille prompt where the word was ‘sky’. Not sure what I’ve written exactly, but it’s forty-four words so we’re going with it.