They drift, like piled islands rising from the mist,
silently floating ‘neath the thin-stretched cotton above.
Brilliant sunlight bursts forth,
coating each billow in radiance,
kissing each soft roll with its gentle splendor.
The air is thin here, but the wind is strong,
Fluffing and tossing each white dune in turn.
The atmosphere is brazen with the setting sun,
the hazy sea below turning the color of Arabian sands,
the azure sky above enticing with its clarity.
The breeze is stroking the clouds now,
cat-like mounds purring under its caress
while the the sun beams out the warmth of a winter fire.
Crimson waterfalls plunge into nothingness
as we sink down toward the muddy patches of green and brown
that, expectant, wait for us to return.