Contemplations on a Cloud

It's so beautiful
yet so sad
the hues of gray blue
on the rash-swollen skin
        of a ready-to-water cloud.

Is the cloud unhappy
—I always wonder—
about its transitional existence or
about its limited extension
        which helplessly leaves the horizon open and bright,
or perhaps
with the people's attitude to its kind?

Whatever the answer might be,
Dear Cloud:
I am but always grateful
for the textured paintings
        that kindly await my eyes
        behind the curtains of our room.

August 2002 and May 2003,
Vancouver