As I go floating by on this neverending river of white with flecks of blue. I often wander is this a river a river in the sky. This rolling cload and mist makes me want to sit and watch it pass like one sitting listening to a small creek or river pass. The sound of winds everchanging tone and the roll of the cloads has a dance all its own. like a river or rippling brook has its own song and dance as it goes down ans on its way. flying about the land and in this river of swirling mist i stop to think and get lost in the rolling mist.
I know that in this worl most do not stop and look up to the sky tatusally blue sky that can change just as fast to a raging storm and a sky full of darness and rolling thunder. Usally its not tell its raining down on us do we look at the sky and think ‘hay stop raining.’ well maybe its the skys way of saying dont just look up at me when im sad. look at me when the sun is bright or when the stars and moon are out… Stop and enjoy lifes small blessings.
well so much for a small poem. guess i just had other thing and a way to say it.
