Please, Cloud

Wet and falling leaves subside,

Flowers have arrived

Look there! Heads poking out.

All the tiny children rush down

With arms and legs splashing into a stream.

Now and then I catch the loom rolling

And folding when the quiet seems loud.

On the hands and feet of tiny children,

The world moves forward and it spins round.

Plucking grass and spelling names

For posterity and proving ancient claims.

There'll be no more songs with no more singers.

No time with no fingers to count it on.

Now and then I catch the moon encroaching,

I'll forget all my problems for now.

They'll be waiting in the new morning,

Patient like a loyal bloodhound.

Please won't you show me where they go,

Please, Cloud?