Soft Array:

Soft Array:

Blown from the hills, I see them rise,

Swirls and whirls of white,

They sail across and gives us surprise,

As they mold themselves with all their might,

I raise my hand, reaching out,

Yet they are far, far, far away,

But I have no mind of this,

As I watch their soft array,

They slowly meld into anew,

Across the expanse of blue,

I see they have room, since they are a few,

So they can paint the sky as they may,

They are undaunted by the lack of wind,

They form differently each day,

And I watch them in my awe,

Awaiting for something raw,

I pick out shapes they have made,

Yet others beg to differ,

My opinion does not bade,

Nor does it fade,

This soft array blossoms,

Into beautiful art,

Across the expanse of blue,

And I will ever know, they will never depart...