Clouds

Clouds in curious scurrying
still gather skirted skies,
and roll across horizons
in bundled, beauteous rise.
They fall upon the heavens,
like balls of fathomed grace,
and breathe themselves eternal
through all of time and space.
In oceanic blossoming
they break the face of day
and disappear like whispers
when they have had their way.
This dreaming froth of being
becomes and then is gone,
like windows to another world;
reflections of God's song.