Midweek poetry: Loud Clouds / by daintydora

        Loud clouds

                       boiled

                       green and gold,

                                 inside out

                                           with rain.

                     Then the

                              white came

                                 again.

                Loud

                     boiled clouds

                           seamed with silver,

                           frothy and frilled

                                      with treasure.

                               Someone else's

                                        sunny day pleasure.

Fisheye Clouds City Scape, GlasgowThe seasons are changing, again, subtle markers of time – whispering, calling, ‘time is slipping away. Your life is slipping away. Come on….’

Or maybe they are just saying, ‘enjoy me, enjoy your time on this earth, short as it is in the grand scheme of evolution and life and the universe’?

Relish the cold on your face and the wind in your hair and the leaves blowing around you and dropping like golden welcomes on the pavement where you walk day after day. Enjoy the blanket of darkness and the bright dazzling light and the calm, quiet hours of night when the birds are asleep but cats prowl around the back of the shed, up to mischief, annoying next door’s dog.

Feel the breeze as you go and cherish the passing clouds as they take their mystery to hover over someone else’s head as they walk. The clouds are watching over you. Drifting, at peace.

Go at peace and be like them, the loud clouds that boil.