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Just Clouds
Just Clouds
They seem just ordinary fill
for a background, a fuzzy white
or gray that doesn't grab the eye
and distract from the more deserving
stuff like trees, sweeping ocean views
and mountain lakes. Clouds lack
a clean line.
They seldom get prime billing
unless infused with anger and about
to burst, or wear the outrageous
colors of a rising or setting sun.
Many exclude them altogether
with a preference for a blue,
totally cloudless sky.
Frankly, total blue is boring to me.
Give me tufts of purest white
drifting soundlessly across
an otherwise featureless sky,
big bellied storm clouds, dark
and sagging with weight,
rumbling with thunder,
letting their load of water go.
And wrap me
in the soft, filtered light
of low, misty clouds that have learnt
how to weep, keep me safe
from the big towering giants
that grow with menace on a distant
horizon and bless me
with the unseen ones
that send down a gentle rain at night
to lull me off to sleep.
Copyright ©
Paul Willason
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