Clouds, How Are You Formed

Well we all know that, don't we?

But…

What if those puffy balls of wool were trimmed meticulously,

from a group of magical sheep running on some galactic garden,

and are strewn across all over the blue skies one by one,

by some invisible hands which then, satisfied with the cloud count,

goes around and with a single clap of thunder hands ignite the rain,

tipper-tapering onto the tin roof, quenching the long-awaited thirst,

of plants, animals, and humans alike, cleansing the soul and the land?

*

As she dodged through the puddles and finds her way back,

did she just feel a rain-soaked ball of wool brush her cheek,

managing to dissipate the next second?

*

As she kept looking for it over and over again,

wondering what it actually was,

were those balls of wool really real?

or just a daydream, knitted block by block,

by her fantastical thinking?

***