POEM: A Low Layer of Rushing Clouds [Prose Poem]

A vein of graphite gray clouds glide - low and fast - under a static white ceiling. No patches of blue peek through, today. Oh, where are those fast blackened clouds sailing at such a clip? And are the high white clouds truly still, or does the contrast with these fast clouds hide some sluggish drift. Maybe the higher clouds are too uniform - stretching out to all horizons - for motion to be seen.

Is this low layer of rushing clouds some kind of smoke monster or a drunkard's dragon? Seems too motivated to just be water vapor.

This entry was posted in poem, Poetry and tagged clouds, nature, poem, poetry, Prose Poem, Sky by B Gourley. Bookmark the permalink.