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