Chris Tetly, member 10338, composed this poem after sitting a while in the garden late on a blowy and partly cloudy moonlit night and thinking it a shame that he was perhaps sole witness to the elaborate and exhilarating performance resulting from the cosmic commingling.

I love a day with passing cloud,
And blue sky in-between.
A vault with cumulus endowed,
Vast joyous sunlit scene.

But equal to this glorious sight,
And by the muses though neglected.
Is the same scene on a moonlit night,
Most beautiful; unexpected.

A visiting wind blowing wild and strong,
Sets the whole night sky in motion.
The clouds drag moon and stars along,
In a glorious commotion.

Illumining fleeces of wuthered wool,
With moon-shadows earth’s face dapple.
Short-lived lives of push and pull,
As amongst themselves they grapple.

As each festoon of blue fog drifts,
And unnoticed much below.
Its monumental rolls and rifts,
Through nights deep river flow.

And the fleeting shapes they conjure,
Are unique compared with day.
Cloud creator and expunger,
As with turbulence they play.

I suspect they know the chance is small,
That we will capture them performing.
So free they feel to curl and sprawl,
Full vigorous and storming.

But as moon gives way to rising sun,
And night hands back the day.
These shapes and silhouettes wind-spun,
Are rested; put away.

But again when next the Moon is high,
And the wind and clouds conspire.
A ghostly goddess you might see fly,
In this nighttime dance of Gaia.

© Chris Tetley (Mr)
Plymouth, Devon, UK
Member 10338