Clouds
by Helen George

On a clear summer day, in a baby blue sky,
An array of cumulus clouds slowly drift by,
So puffy and billowy, and colored snow white,
They fill one with pleasure, ensuring delight.

Sometimes these same clouds turn a dark gray,
Sending forth signals that rain is on the way,
Clouds with silver linings may sometimes be found,
When your senses are awed and such beauty astounds.

A contrail cloud lingers where a jet has flown by,
And left in its wake a white line in the sky,
Or, low-lying fog blankets the valley in mist,
Obscuring the forest like it no longer exists.

Cloud formations intrigue me as they appear
High overhead in the earth's atmosphere,
I silently watch them as they cover the sky,
See how many different types I can identify.