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Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

There is a full moon outside my window
I think
There is supposed to be
but instead of a brilliant orb
There is a soft glow
pulsations of gray passing over
I want the clouds to go away, I want clarity
I want to see what is there, what is supposed to be there
what really is

The sun should be rising outside my window
I think
There is supposed to be
but instead of a growing light
pink, orange, yellow
There is a dim pile of cotton candy
Swirling in the wind
I want the clouds to go away
so I can see the day coming
and not even coffee is helping.

It’s clouds’ illusion, Joni recalled
And she really didn’t know clouds at all

Illusion? Or Delusion?
They are tricky things
If she cannot know them, how could I possibly try?

The big white fluffy mounds
that float effortlessly across the sky
Playing with little children
A dog, an elephant, a sheep
Softness in appearance only, as anyone in an airplane
would testify.
And the white wisps in the high sky
Are they even trying?

No, of all the clouds
I trust only the storm clouds
heavy and gray
pregnant with power
with possible destruction
Bringers of water and wind and watts
Those dark black piles of doom
they are the only clouds
that tell the truth.