Tumbling under and over, <br />Endlessly rolling on, <br />Above a field of clover, <br />Forever heading toward the dawn. <br /> <br />White and puffy, <br />Large and weightless, <br />They look so fluffy, <br />But are no more than mist. <br /> <br />Dark below and white above, <br />With rain enough to fill the creeks, <br />All that water could give a shove, <br />To anyone in the path of the flood.<br /><br />Ryan Brooks<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/clouds-59/
