black asphalt shines
street lights reflect in puddles
Up from the tarmac
soft white fog cushions,
blotting out landscape and sky
Rising above the fog
rumpled grey cloud throws a blanket
to the edges of the horizon
Passing the horizon
a flat white sheet of cloud
meets blue domed sky
Ever shifting cloud becomes
soft foothills and valleys
white, slate blue and grey
Light grey clouds thin and fray
rivers and prairie beneath
disappear spontaneously
Patchwork prairie emerges
clouds suspend themselves
tarmac dried, dusty and rough.
"The sky and the sun are always there. It's the clouds that come and go."
~ Rachel Joyce
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