Some errant clouds scud along the sky,
While their shadows glide along the topography
over hills, malls, rivers, ghettos, burbs.
My blinking eyes, catch this scene.
But between my ears, I wonder . . .
why is this so special?
Same damn clouds as 10, 20, 30, or a millennium ago.
White cumulus with just a streak of blue
racing, patches of azure between them.
So why am I staring, my feet stuck, my neck craning
up at this moveable, ever malleable sky?
Ken Wheatcroft-Pardu, Texas, USA