Sky-Artist

Is there no end, Sky-Artist,
to your endless cloud sketches?

Each time I blink you change shape –
a bevy of bears
an army of elephants
a shoal of fish turning sheep

Himalayan pile-ups
so high and deep
we roll in the waves
of a great sea-blanket

Then in a sunny
change of mood
you wipe your canvas
down to its own sky-blue

Soon palaces are floating over me –
a whale lying on a cushiony throne.
Why not a small cloud-dog
to follow me home?