Graphic by MamaBear
Clouds
Soundless giants of the air,
Drifting slowly everywhere,
Softly flowing, gentle flight,
Unseen shadows in the night.
Summer skies of azure blue,
Often hold a cloud or two.
Snowbank castles looking down,
At the lowlifes on the ground.
In Winter skies they do convene,
To cover up our muddy scene.
Some ugliness just has to go,
So then they cover it with snow.
Grazing sheep of soundless tread,
Passing slowly overhead,
Our miasmas upward creep,
To make these gentle creatures weep.
NicknamedBob . . . . December 29, 2004