Clouds Poem by Daniele Cerasoli

I look up at the blue sky
Kissed with soft, swirling clouds
Up high, birds fly
There, by the white shrouds.

The smell of the fresh cut grass
Means that summer is really here
A two-month long hourglass
Which will soon be in the rear.

Underneath the sun
So many flowers are in view
I look, but pick none
Because then their time will soon be due.

The beauty of the sunlight
Beside the terror of the shade
It looks like a lit night
That never seems to fade.

I decide to look back up at the sky
In the middle of the night
The clouds have gone - "Too bad...", I cry
Because they detailed the sky just right.