Through tattered curtains of green leaves,
A landscape floats on high.
So blue and white and beautiful
Are clouds against the sky.
A group of chubby young-boy clouds
Plays tag or hide and seek.
They get behind their mothers’ skirts
And then lean out to peek.
A flock of soaring eagle clouds
Glides ever gracefully
To follow in whatever path
Their leader may decree.
A gathering of army clouds
Might march on stormy days,
Their guns exploding as they come--
They’ve bold and frightful ways.
A cloud parade goes passing by,
Led by an elephant,
With many kinds of animals,
And all are different.
A brood of chicken clouds will hop
With feathers sticking out.
They’re sheltered by the mother hen
Who leads them all about.
Some cloud teams are adventurous
As they climb out of sight.
They bravely travel everywhere
In sun-bright day or night.
A school of clouds swims slowly by,
Together as they ought.
They have no fear as fishes do
Of ever being caught.
Imagination is a gift,
As well as God’s creation.
The cloud formations He has made
Provide us inspiration.
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