Clouds (a work in progress)

Sometimes they’re dense.
Sometimes they’re smart.
Some are pure anarchy.
Some morph into lattice.
Sometimes they’re the problem, sometimes the solution.
Sometimes they’re abstract and sometimes precise.
Sometimes they’re a Netflix series about a Netflix series.
Sometimes they have no online mojo at all.
Some are greater than eight but less than ten.
Others have swollen heads full of data.
One minute they’re cutting across the middle of South America,
The next they’re running up the west coast of Africa.
Sometimes they wander lonely as a poet.
Sometimes they quit with less than two-weeks notice.
Sometimes they’re crushing the mountains trying to extract juice.
Sometimes you have to be union to move them.
Sometimes they are flayed umbrellas.
Sometimes they are starting a family.
Sometimes a silver platter and chalice set.
Sometimes they’re tied in the pickup truck bed
Like a dirt bike, or a calf, or a washing machine.
Sometimes they’re trending.
Sometimes they pause.
Sometimes they stream.
Sometimes they’re thunderstruck.
Sometimes serene.
Sometimes they look down on us but mostly we look up.
Some appear to be texting and planning to hook up.
Some are fluffy, some are like roots,
Some are like laws on the books.
Some gather like herds, or demonstrate hive behavior.
Some were there at the ascension of our savior. (sorry)
Some are batting, grandma hair, penumbrae,
Or auditioning for the part of Antarctica
in the annual World Atlas Show.
Some are preauthorized,
Some shop at Home Depot, some shop at Lowes,
Some are like nymphs, some just the clothes. (sorry)
Sometimes they loll like odalisques.
Some clot like thrombosis.
Sometimes they play for the Kerrville Cottonmouths.
Some scatter like meiosis.
And sometimes they’re swollen, or abetting a swelter,
And that’s when it’s time for the wise to seek shelter.

© 2020 Randy Stark

Please visit my website at and my page at Write Up The Road.

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