Poem: We Are the Clouds

A picture of a cloud I took this morning when walking the dog.

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.

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