Enid Blyton Clouds
I call them Enid Blyton clouds
that touch the ground to rise
in billows to a deep blue sky.
They let the illustrator draw
characters against the cold white page,
uncluttered by the detail high above.
Today her namesake clouds are racing,
east to west,
pictures changing as the pages turn,
the background barely there.
© Celia Warren 2021
Photoshop helped me create an illustration to my new poem, using the cloud photo that I took this morning. The clouds were belting along in the strong winds, and soon began to change, so this was the only one I got that illustrated the clouds meeting the horizon.
Sat watching the birds while I had my elevenses. There were loads of them, large and small, from a busy wren to a pair of magpies, and everything in between. Amazingly, there was also a Red Admiral butterfly, happily dotting around the Fatsia japonica flowers. Its wings were undamaged, in remarkably good nick for the 4th week in November!