Nefelibata

Not a cloud in the sky exclaimed zeal

with a face full of elation in a perfectly sunny day.

Not a cloud in sight frowned the cloudspotter

briskly spinning to another day under the ceiling’s seal

of illusion. The lady steps into a quadratura of painted

patron goddesses of idle fellows. Frozen on blue,

spontaneity evaporated above the stone lady fountain

gazing upon clouds of crepe blossom shadows.

One pinched magnolia sweetens her stale room,

teasing with velvet white longing. Healing distant thunder

rattles hopes for a billowing explosion of spirits

rising in praise to catch a rare glimpse of her cloudwalker,

sand turned to glass. Waxing supine, gazing at the sky

without a kindred soul, bolts of lightening rain but the sun kept shining.