clouds
where on earth are you
going?
Don't let that mooney old
sun's hot rash
passion go pushing
you around
—out past skyscrapers!
Be not so
easily swayed by cheap
talltalk
of foolhardy
wind off a midmorning lake!
Not quite so
quick!
—tall dark
shocks of
cumulonimbus—why not just
stick
around and rain awhile?
Both of your blithe
ardent cousins
are codgers—
preposterous
uncharitable misunderstanders!
Neither casts mood
on a monday like you do—besides
this sleepy city's
all rubbed-
eyes and sighing this morning
and could really use just five
more minutes—
of covers.
