Texas Sky April 2011  


are roiling on the horizon,

stacking up East-wise,

threatening to move in–

move in and dump.

But they’re whiter

than white can be

and only so much vapor.

I imagine their

rumbling high over
distant mountains,
molecules leaving mess

and mayhem, headed this way.

But there’s no
running for cover.
Hand over hand,

huddle-like, we refuse

the fear they are wont

to bring, all noise and

show and billow.

Pillow-high, they’re forced
skyward by the whether system
moving their way.
Truth rises, air pressure

changes and they dissipate

feather-like, gossamer

strands unraveling

and blowing invisible




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