clouds gamboling like sheep across the sky
I picture their tails wagging in my mind
and capture them on film before they fly.
The shapes of clouds, like colors of the dawn,
and youth, and beauty, summer, spring, and fall,
briefly delight, then all too quickly gone,
sweet memories; like shadows on a wall.
While winter's cold sinks in, its icy bite
relentless, keeping us beside the fire
delaying sunrise while it hastens night,
its endless darkness dampening all desire.
Spring will come again, just like the dawn.
But those sheep-like clouds? Like snowflakes -- forever gone.
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