Open Skies

What could be more free than the life of a cloud?

to float endlessly through the open skies.

buoyantly floating in every way,

while watching ants scurry through their busy days.

Building up through vapor and heat,

becoming the biggest, baddest, and loudest of them all.

Only to unload all your contents, shrinking down to the size of a molecule.

Day and night you slowly build,

reaching for your original state.

Only to begin once more the lazy cycle of the cloud.

Author's Note

awkward lines?

Reviews

[Miranda Manne]

I'd like to see a bit more added to this poem...perhaps another stanza between these two? It's so lovely, it just seems unfinished, as if there was more to be said about the free life of a cloud.

That being said, I quite like the last stanza. Very interesting to personify clouds as more than just idle passersby.