Clouds are endless banks

of floating white cotton, or,

white snow shoveled to the

side of the road.

They are white round jelly fish, hanging in the sky,

their tentacles flowing down.

The cloud is a dragon,

pulling a wagon.

No it’s a clown face, no

it’s a person, no it’s nothing,

but a cloud floating by,

wispy and white, above a long sliver

of blue.

Clouds are endless shapes of something and nothing,

harmless and harmful.

casual and indifferent,

they bump the plane along,