Clouds

by Barbara Southard

Tangled shreds 

thin veils 

fishbones 

each a small

catastrophe

that dies

before our eyes

replaced

with ragged plumes

arch and anvil

their changing ways

skimming through air

in vaporous trails.

Birds gather

in a moving dazzle

in their depths

of heaps and layers

erasing, rewriting

new patterns

on the blank canvas

of blue skies.