</>Pale blue beneath paler white
Shifting, morphing, my eyes close
The wind blows, my eyes flash open
It’s gone, but there is another
This one, a different routine
It seems nearly solid
Its shape stays the same
Until a large gust blows by
Forcing it to change
And I stare, wide-eyed
Through the leaves of a tree
And spend a day at rest
Merely watching the clouds.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem