They reach out, descending as outstretched hand,
touching gently the bent heads of swaying trees,
a gesture of love and longing unplanned,
brought to bear by this sudden passing breeze.
They spread softly, covering as hand-wrought quilt,
protecting quietly the world asleep below,
a caress of compassion to assuage their guilt,
as though an apology for storms of rain and snow.
They drift quickly, painting as the artist’s own stroke,
creating beautifully shifting swirls by hand unseen,
a wash of blue and white glory does awe evoke,
as each new wind comes taunting and wiping clean.
They continue endlessly, as sleepy sunset begins to wake,
filling silent pastel sky with shapes of magical delight,
a gift of gently crafted shape and texture does it make,
as though God’s hand sculpted each one as he might.
Karen Quinn 2013