My latest original five-line poem. I’ve mentioned before how music often inspires these little poems, and well, sometimes nature does, too. So much so that I can’t ignore it. I was out walking my dog this morning, and saw this cloud hanging off to the left side of a field over the tree line, and it felt so dang close that I could touch it.
We Are the Clouds
the clouds hang as a microcosm of our lives:
beautiful, or ominous; colorful, or pale;
constant, numerous, or singular and fleeting;
holding water, or ice, and when the burden is too much,
they release it; and others see what they want in them.