Nothing more, not clear or bright sky

Surely it is enough just to be sky.

The wonder clouds full of moisture

from the dear earth,

Never the same, never quite the same

From the days of dinosaurs, the days of Neanderthals

from the Middle Ages, from yesterday.  Always changing

and always miraculous.  Day clouds and night clouds

White, grey, black, yellow, pink, orange, in all their

capricious glory.  They form and reform, appear and disappear,

bring us shade or rain or snow or hasten away on the wind.

Then they only give us beauty and so fleeting

that unless it is our preoccupation,

it is lost on us.