Clouds

I am going to start re-posting the poetry I posted on Facebook. Sorry to those who have already read it; if anyone hasn't already read it, I hope you enjoy it!
I realized that I happen to have three poems related in some way to clouds, so I'm going to post all of them here (one 'new' one and two from Facebook.) At first I attributed this focus on clouds to their beautiful and intricate mystique (that may be part of it), but I think a more accurate reason is that plane rides can be really boring.


Clouds 11/29/2009
A field forever full of fluffy white,
Blown like smoke, too cold to rise,
Though far too high to witness night,
Tossed by angels, Sonlight glinting in their eyes.

But in their merriment they cease.
A trumpet echoes cross the field
And all the powder seems to freeze,
Caught by one of seven seals.

And as we glide by hill and dale, so it does seem
Of this vast field, ever present, though never seen.


The Storm 3/30/2009
The drifting cloud, like a swoolen sheep
In a field of blue and soapy suds.
Darkening, it rolls in a heap.
It swirls and tumbles in cerulean mud.
Crack!
The metaphor stretches and snaps:
An angry peak, jagged and slashed,
Now hit by a wave it crashes and slaps
Just as much like a blizzard now swirling as fast
As the lightning now striking the ground.


In case you miss it, this is an attempt at a palindrome poem. It's written twice here for ease of reading.
The Airplane 10/8/2009
Wings flying on
shimmering light
as substantial as
clouds of white.
the whiteness and brightness
indivisible in
expanding light.
--
Light expanding,
indivisible in
brightness and whiteness.
the white of clouds
as substantial as
light shimmering
on flying wings.