Ode to Cloud Nine
Thunder a-comin’.
Skies gawn dark.
Where’d tha fluffy
Cumulus gow?
Winds a-gustin’ –
‘Ard.
You’se loomin’,
Hangin’ on yonda.
Won’ be long now.
Incredible vorh-ex.
Gigan’ic,
Terrible –
Cloud galaxy of
Atmospheric nebula.
As you lay quiet,
Broodin’ an’
Gatherin’ energies.
Won’ be long now.
Thump!
You hit roof.
A straturspheric
Punch.
Anvil like, you
Start to tritle –
Rain –
Belts it down.
Won’ be long now.
Bit nippy like,
Shivrin’.
You’se dominate;
Skye Marster,
Lord of clouds,
Number níne.
Tree’s is screamin’
Before you wake.
Won’ be long now.
Won’ be long
NOW!
Cack, crackle.
Heav’ns chime,
Valk-ries
Time for livin’.
You’se,
No,
WE’se alive!
Migh’y-number-níne
You ebb
An’ flow.
‘Lectric fingers
Kneadin’ grey dough.
You’se is almos’ spent.
Dissipate an’ i’ll watch.
Another’s growin’.
Cumulonimbus!
Won’ be long now.
© Stephen Taylor-Matthews
