Question

write me a poem of clouds

Answer 1

Cloud Cartography

They drift like slow-thoughts across the day's white page,
mapping wind's finger along the blue.
Some gather into soft congregations,
a rumor of mountains pregnant with rain,
others thin into laces that let sunlight stitch the air.

Under them, the city exhales — a glitter of streets, a child's kite,
a dog turning his face to the shifting shade.
They keep secrets: the hush before thunder, the brief forgiveness of light.
At dusk they are torn paper, stitched with mauve and fire,
and for a breath we believe in their small, radiant mercy.

Night borrows their ache and shapes it into moon-dust,
while somewhere a plane threads a silver seam,
and the clouds, indifferent and generous, continue
teaching the world how to move without ever touching.