What are Clouds?


Are clouds a mere gesture of misery,
A fruit of gloom and despair so profound?
Or are they sanguine vessels of Adam's ale,
Pouring tears of heaven to the souls aground?

I'd stare for hours at the fleeting clouds
And wonder if they are the Spirits of the Sky,
Amazed by their grace and boundlessness
Often I'd let out a fathomless sigh.

Maybe they are wonted bits of Nature
Playing their part as Us all,
But I'd prefer to imagine that they are my refuge;
A recondite realm for me to sprawl.

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