Clouds Over Idaho

WHOOOSH! Someone let the genie
out of the bottle over there,
just beyond where the earth falls
into the sky.

(Genies, you know, don't have feet.
They unravel downward in clouds.)

Clouds are genies are clouds:
As you look at their shifting shapes,
all things become possible.

They flap their wings (shedding
whole angel-loads of feather)
over neat red-roofed farm houses
and fields as neatly bounded,

all clinging tightly to their forms,
praying that they suffer no change
beyond the slow predictable wheeling
of seasons.

But the near wild meadow and the far trees
sift their chaotic shadows in wind,
wishing...wishing.

Dean Blehert