Author Jonathan Chaves Clouds are swept into the sunset—a sky beyond the sky.Standing against the wind—sparse willows,their branches blown aslant.The fisherman throws down his nets to dry on the hillside,and lies beside them—drunk—to catch some sleep. Tags Short Poems Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments