Sky Parade

Bright white clouds drift lazy and slow, parading across summer’s bold blue glow. Like ships made of whispers, soft and wide, they sail on thermals, no need to hide. They stretch and yawn in the open light, puffed-up pillows in dazzling flight. One looks like a dog, another a swan a canvas of dreams we gaze upon. The sun plays tag with their cotton shapes, casting shadows that twist and escape. They don’t say much, just float on through, content in their dance across endless blue. And we, down below with lemonade eyes, just lie in the grass and watch the skies while the clouds, with nothing to prove or do, teach us to drift, and just be too.