The clouds
For generations they saw them
Looming above, the sunlight
Skreeing off the wings’ edges
The bottom in shadow skimming
The heavens as if looking below
For those it wanted to strike
And for generations they ran
Or froze in dread, until so much
Had gone by they had almost
Forgot, and then one day a small
One skimmed over them
And the smart ones stood there unafraid
As from it another smaller one
Fell, light glinting on the edges
Shadowed below falling faster
Than anything they’d seen
And they realized
They’d been right all along
Whoa. Incredible poem, Jeff.
Thank you, E.