![🌤](https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/images/emoji.php/v9/tec/2/16/1f324.png)
![⛅️](https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/images/emoji.php/v9/t20/2/16/26c5.png)
![☀️](https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/images/emoji.php/v9/tee/2/16/2600.png)
***
Clouds are not clouds,
Still but gliding letters
On a blue page
In the absence
of a clear aim.
Light but strong
to move one’s dreams,
unaware of the sky-writing
they do.
I want but cannot take them home,
I read them on the wet sand,
I step on them,
I stab them with a toe
“en plein air”.
I’m never sure who the artist is
and if the artist is aware
of us, of me and you –
the backdrops to the sky’s scene,
not even feeling that we move
1600 kilometres per hour
around the Earth’s axis.