Pearls in the fingernails

They were the contrails of silent skyjets
That stretched like a monkey god’s tails.
They laid luminous paths and our eyes

Shone in excitement in our finger nails
Ready for a little white fluff to sky-drop
To lodge behind them , like tiny pearls

That would enter our fingers fluttering
At flamingos flying in on yearly holiday
From their frozen Siberian back homes.

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