The clouds play out their dramas,

As they scurry across the sky.

All shapes and sizes,

Even faces,

In my mind’s eye.


They hug the hills with mist sometimes,

Or blend into golden, blood-red, blue tinged



Cloud castles,

Ocean liners on a pure glass sea.

An endless variety of forms,

From dull featureless grey

To swirling poetry.


Different every day.


Paul Butters

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Nature's beauty observed.

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