A Single Cloud In A Clear Sky

Soft and white, against the blue,

Up above, the clouds pursue

Their endless journey through the sky,

A dance of vapor, way up high.

Some are wispy, thin and fine,

Like feathers from a bird's behind,

Others billow, thick and grand,

Like mountains made of cotton strands.

They drift and shift, forever changing,

Never staying, always ranging,

Sometimes gray with rain and storm,

Other times with colors warm.

They hold the secrets of the air,

And stories of the world down there,

Whispering tales of where they've been,

And what they've witnessed, far and in.

So next time you gaze up at the sky,

Take a moment, don't pass by,

And marvel at the clouds on high,

A sight that never fails to mystify.