Nothing more, not clear or bright sky
Surely it is enough just to be sky.
The wonder clouds full of moisture
from the dear earth,
Never the same, never quite the same
From the days of dinosaurs, the days of Neanderthals
from the Middle Ages, from yesterday. Always changing
and always miraculous. Day clouds and night clouds
White, grey, black, yellow, pink, orange, in all their
capricious glory. They form and reform, appear and disappear,
bring us shade or rain or snow or hasten away on the wind.
Then they only give us beauty and so fleeting
that unless it is our preoccupation,
it is lost on us.