The clouds over Buffalo

At this very moment
As I type this
I am high
Literally
High off the sky
Flying like birds fly
Meeting with clouds
And watching them glow
Clouds glow you know?
When the sun comes out the sky glows like rowling angry smoky dust off of clittering hoofs
Poufy and fierce, but aglow
Shimery with shades of grey
Oh how I wish you could see this
And just like that!
Almost as if to remind me that life is short,
The sights are gone
In its old place, now stands blank whiteness.
Whiteness.
Oh what an ironic world!
Whiteness over Buffalo.

09/02/2011