Dragons
Sky dragons
Cloud clusters
Form not heft
Water not weight
Massive still
Hung like ornament
Slightly roiling, a perfect
grey blue white
Pendulous
I am awestruck
How can this vision
Cause this much ache
To touch the ephemeral
As if by this embrace
We will be made clean
Reaching out a hand, longingly
Hoping something of
It's gossamer perfection
Will rub off
Onto a grubby paw