Elucidating Questions

The clouds look like brushstrokes, a reverse tundra in the sky.

Twists and twirls as the sun falls and the greys seep in. Darkness and softness, solid, yet not.

Through the spots seeable, the blue like crystal that reminds every day.

The wind flows gently through the trees and changes the sky in seconds above. The distance is mountains, the tundra now whisps.

Like fingers dragged across, the warmth of the sentimentality of the setting sun.

Grey like rain, changes in a blink.

Of you blink it’s gone, like fading ink.

Coming or going, the rolling clouds, the watercolour painting that is the sky right now.