Sometimes clouds are a disappointment.
It’s not their fault, really.
They’re just vaporing along.
(Notice, I didn’t call them vapid.)
But sometimes I am making
(think snow angels but less substantial)
or I’m trying to read,
And they sneak across the sky’s cheek
all giggly with mischief
or rumbly with thunder
or purple with envy because
the sun gets all the attention.
I love clouds, though. I just want to be clear.
Especially in July.