Clouds

Floating who-knows-how-high above the treetops

Gliding across a clear surface

Ever changing

Always moving

A replica of the strangest objects in the observer's mind

Tumbling and rolling like mad waves

Tossing and twisting as they pass by

Claiming a space that nothing can conquer

An awesome spectacle for those down below

Rushing on their way before the storm that surely follows in their path

As darkness falls the wars of nature fold in behind the black

And they remain a smoky-like screen

Shielding stars from sight

Stirring with a passion in indescribable arrangements

Even though no longer seen

But wait!

In the light of a rising sun I see a clean slate

The soft whispers of night blew the clouds on their way

Vapors of the morning emerge

Resting on treetops

In silence they gather

New and clean and white

In silence they part

Always reaching for the horizon

Sailing over the hills and valleys

That separate this half of the world from the other

Maneuvering the cliffs of a mountaintop

Or hovering above the clear waters

As dusk approaches once more

They move quickly

You may not see them

For the clouds don't know how to stop

But they may be seen again

In some new shape and form.