Cloudy Poem by Laurence E. Bourke

Sluggish lines of cloud persist, interrupting mid-days
Glowing sheet, a spectacular explosion of blue.
Springs warming clime slows the cloudy migration above,
Dragging their dim underbellies beneath the skies bowled ceiling...

A world-weary platoon, commanded only by the wind,
Ever adrift on its gaseous currents, old, unseen convection's traversing All we have and have not. And us, our lazy brains sculpting
Shapes into the flimsy masses passing overhead…

Can only watch the fat white bodies float, casually, through quiet space,
Absorbing suns penultimate rays, redirecting its scattered
Orange and reds earthward. Their thin-air tops stay cool,
Skimming the darkening limits of our world…