I lie upon the soft field grasses,
and look up upon the blue.
To ease the mind to rest,
and let my eyes take in the view.
Vapour shaped by wind,
that drifts high upon the restful scene.
To float upon the pastel,
leaving no trace where it has been.
Shapes of white and grey,
like soft pillows in the air.
That by some subtle contortion,
transform, 'til naught is there.
Others drift across the daylight,
as if on some predestined course.
propelled across the sky,
by a breath of nature's unseen force.
I wonder where they go,
what bidding do they do.
As they glide along their way,
until far beyond my capsuled view.
Sun's warmth in temporary instalments,
as shadows come and go.
The shade and shadow's fall,
slightly cool all that is far below.
Through my eyes now closed,
of soft patterns I remain complete aware.
As warmth and slight chill mark the clouds,
that march upon the springtime air.
