Clouds Poem by Miki Byrne

Clouds.


Air-brushed wisps to mackerel bellied speckles.
Drift windblown like the earths’ chiffon scarf.
They float in candy-cotton puffs
or grey washrag streaks. Bruised by storms.
Thrown and twisted. Cyclonic tubes suck skyward
and bring death in twisted tendrils.

Free-form sculptures in balletic poses
saunter across a blue stage
And ragged edges softly coil away.
Such are chameleon clouds that continuously change.
They die and reform in living moist beauty,
And are always fascinatingly there.