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Pipe Smoke Clouds

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Is there a man up in the sky, with a smoky brown wood pipe;
Does he light the tip aglow, a burning sunset in the night?
Will he puff and blow white rings until the breaking grey of dawn;
Will he heave great breaths and sigh until the weeping clouds are gone?
Are his clouds the ones on earth that you and me see every day;
Does he huff his white smoke rings to keep his loneliness at bay?
Does he sit each day unmoving in the brilliance of the sun;
Waiting to lift his pipe when the night is again begun?





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