Clouds are starting to gather
They're having a cloud convention
They roll into one another
Under or over with soft collision
And the shapes made in the frenzy
Hearken to whatever the mind might imagine
Nature's Rorschach
Yet so fleeting that as soon as you
Name what you see
It's morphing into something else
Never mind that your companion sees
A totally other taking shape
In yours' dissolution
And the clouds are making for
Fair weather or stormy weather
Or drifting by without intent
Yet the canvas that is sky,
Is being painted in hues of blue
And white and gray
And sometimes others
If there's smoke or ash to
Corrupt the air with particles
Yes, the clouds are starting to gather
On the blank canvas that is sky