clouds

fine strings of cirrus
plucked from the muse’s lyre
play the bluest ayrs

Low Clouds

like longships
they sail downstream
the stuff of lore and legend
held hidden
in their bellies
ancient secrets
told only to the forest pines
in rainfall

Southbound

southbound afternoon
hunting down escaping clouds
in search of their dreams

Pareidolia

such clouds are these
which fly above
and in them
do I see my love
in each grey curl
and empty space
smiles down the aspect
of her face

West Falling Clouds

cauldron of twilight
burning in the stratosphere
warm me with your dreams

Low Clouds At 7 a.m.

like longships
they sail downstream
the stuff of lore and legend
held hidden
in their bellies
ancient secrets
told only to the forest pines
in rainfall

Angels

dare we think them clouds
does not their pure demeanor
speak of heaven’s host

Clouds Quicken

each day I notice
the clouds themselves quickening
as the sunshine fades

Sandcastles

a western sun
dropping low
painted the waves
with mercury
and on the shore
I built my castles
not of sand
but of the clouds
floating
far on distant horizons
it is there
my dreams will dwell.

5-7-5 (take-five-hundred-and-thirty-six : mill)

a cloud is captured
on the sails of the old mill
a dream ground to dust