Clouds don't lie.  They tell the truth
wherever they may go.
Their shadows give relief
to creatures down below.

They change their forms and colors
the chameleons of the air.
Majestically, they soar above
to play with angels there.

They weep to nourish growing crops
and bring the snow and hail.
A crown of lightning lights their heads
before the coming gale.

Clouds can ride the jet stream
like a wrangler on his steed,
Then float serenely on the breeze
and other cloudlings breed.

They soak up sunset, changing hue,
vermilion, saffron, gold...
Then soar to higher atmospheres
to frolic in the cold.

Free to roam the open sky,
they mock the earth-bound horde
And blithely glide upon the wind,
no passengers aboard.

Oh, how I'd like to take a ride
upon a breaking dawn.
But clouds don't lie, and so deny,
a chance of getting on.

Unpretentious are the clouds.  
They care not for our awe.
They graze upon their crystals
and are quite above the law.

The mysteries the clouds have kept
since Mother Earth began...
Are kept behind the truth they tell,
as part of heaven's plan.