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Celtic Cloudsong

Amid the gently-stirring breezes,
Fist-shaped, fleece-puffed, angel-white
Tints of blue on mounds of cotton,
Riding wind out of sight,
Ye clouds float on the horizon.

Thunder booms, lightning flashes,
Swept from banks of iron-grey,
Churning wind, sound of splashes,
Carried through into the month of May.

Heavily-topped, swirling bright,
Revealed through wisps of white
Craggy peaks rule the night,
'Till come the hours of morning...

The great sun rises; a fiery orb,
Painting clouds in golden glory,
By outstretch'd fingers; the light absorbed -
In rays of light, clouds carry --





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