clouds look like they're on interlude.
we could reach up and pull each one apart
like it was cotton candy. each particle separating from itself
but not wanting to let go. stretching and tearing.
they move across the sky,
following the bus like
an old ship, fierce and majestic. their shadows hit
the rocky fields and
mountains acting as spilled paint causing
anyone to feel small.
and as the bus turns into wagon hound rest stop,
i wonder when i'll be home.