I am really quite fond of the clouds but today they are in an angry mood, rushing along with great purpose not pausing to smile. Maybe they don’t like being bowled along by the wind and much prefer to bask in a gentle breeze. Come to think of it, I would rather float in a warm pool than be swept away by a raging torrent.
I suspect the clouds are now hundreds of miles away catching their breath and chatting about their crazy roller coaster adventure rides. They swap horror stories about the poor clouds that got ripped apart in the high winds. The rich clouds pay for gentle winds to blow them to shelter away from the dangerously high winds. The poor clouds cannot afford protection and throw themselves to the mercy of the elements.
The Buddhist clouds are practicing reincarnation, depositing their moisture as rain which will one day evaporate into new baby clouds with voracious appetites for vapor. The baby clouds grow into huge fat fluffy clouds. They hang out in groups chatting, drinking telling stories, and having fun.
Suddenly the hells angel’s dark clouds roar into town pushing the other clouds around. Soon the sky is full of hells angels clouds getting drunk and looking for trouble. Just for kicks, they fire up their Harley Davidson Thunder machines and blast people below. They shoot their lightning ray guns down aiming to destroy anything on the ground in mischief. The sheriff clouds race in and disperse the hells angels pushing them back far away.
Clear blue skies invite the fluffy clouds to come and float in safety. The first cloud pops up as a scout and puts a safety message on the fluffy clouds’ FaceBook page. Social cloud media soon fills the sky with trendy upwardly mobile high income childless clouds. They snort cocaine and float over cool Caribbean islands. They live meaningless lives and add no value to the planet.
Meanwhile across the globe millions of worker clouds get up early every day and receive their work orders. “Go float over there and give those folks some welcome shade.” “Now get in formation to create a spectacular sunrise.” They work long days for little rewards, and the older ones go to nursing home clouds to be ignored and neglected. The angel of death cloud hangs over them.
I have lived most of these cloud lives, right now I am a Sheriff Cloud bringing law and order but someday I will be floating in a nursing home cloud dreaming about the days when I played hide and seek with the other kid clouds.
Cheeky Monkey Poetry 