From spring's soft cape gently blows wandering clouds.
Cool winds create billowing wisps in gentle airs
Casting moving shadows in green fields below.
And in fields of golden corn prickly ears do blow.
To large towering clouds, cumulonimbus, spiralling,
Swirling, growing rain clouds getting heavy, ready
To drop their contents onto the earth below. Hail,
Thunder and lightning. A spring festival of rain.
No more deep shadows of winter, Snow clouds now gone,
A distant memory of snow and cold days and even colder
Nights where sheep stood frozen in fields of frigid earth
Now give way to warmer dryer days, this start of spring's birth.
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Comments about this poem (Clouds by David Wood )
The Road Not Taken
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