October 13, 2021
by Carol Mikoda
After storms, clouds tear
themselves apart, then reform.
Shreds fly in all directions, eaten
by the sky, invisible. Wind and wave
carry particles upstream, or down a river,
over ridges, moraines, and mountain tops
where they touch the snow if it’s still there.
They join some enormous growth of a cumulus
billowing, swelling, changing shape near the sunset,
to reflect those piercing colors. Cloud watchers like us
draw in our breath sharply, to see such a day bloom and fade.