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.