Sunday, April 19, 2015

rows and floes

Up yonder in that unseen somewhere
I wonder does he craft each one with care
Does he drag them with a finger across his sky
Or does he just sit and watch them drift by

Does he wake up early to color them each day
Does his mood determine whether white or gray
Or does he twist a handle and open his eyes
Is it more of a kaleidoscope surprise

Is each one a picture for us to discover
And does no one in fact look like any other
Are they thoughtfully placed there to lend us some shade
Or some days can't he bear to see what he made

Sometimes I wonder about clouds

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