The winds are blowing, the clouds
They collide in the heavens
White
Grey
Wisps
Like old friends
They meet, mix,
And take from each other,
Drop off some of there thoughts
That rain down below,
Drizzle,
Torrential,  
Hail,
Snow,
Depending the feelings
Above,
To what will fall below,
They are always moving
Globe trotters,
They pick up
Moisture,
Hitchhikers,
Evaporation
Get there fill and then
Expel
In light hearted banter,
Or
In anger
Deluge
The ill prepared below,
Always look up and imagine
Where that wisp of vapour,
Will bring life or tragedy where they go..