Clouds
Charcoal grey, silver grey, shading to white,
Changing and shifting,
Pewter grey, ashy grey, darkness then light,
Trailing and lifting.
A quiet avalanche of melting clouds
In horizontal fall,
Covering distant hill tops like a shroud
Or funeral pall.
Shapes form, reform, then float away
In careful counterpoise,
Then balance, hover, shift and sway,
There is no noise.
A sudden change, the wind picks up,
Disorder in the sky,
Which way to go at first unclear,
Then the clouds begin to fly.
Across the vast and open prairie skies
The clouds stampede,
Driven by wayward winds they fall and rise
At breakneck speed.
Such confidence we can never realise.
Here on the ground we hesitate and stumble.
They are in their element.
Copyright © Alison Douglas | Year Posted 2019
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment