In the Clouds, Giants

In the sky

Clouds sit

Like giants

Curled up

Sleeping peacefully



Their fingers reach

Over the rim

Of their cloud

Bring the under-world

To mist


If they were real

They could hook

Their fingers

Over cloud ledge

And calmly

Go fishing in the world


Oh, what ideas

They would find

They might catch a hat

And hear the story

Of how it was blown away

By the fickle wind

Or they might get

An invention

Steaming from the press

Enlarging their cloud



The mist will reseed

And they will puff away

To be seen

The next cloudy day

When there is

No day

And the sky

Is wreathed in grey

One thought on “In the Clouds, Giants

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