Clouds scud by
Like an Atlantic convoy
In the sky;
But, without the threat of U-Boats to keep them watchful.
The blue sky itself
Reflects of the cold, cruel sea
Which it has seen often;
And which it here emulates upon high.
The bigger, slower clouds
Consider the agility of their diminutive cousins;
As they, themselves, ponderously plod across the heavens.
The purpose they have is not of our knowledge;
But, we can be sure that they know where it is
That they are headed toward;
And, as always, ‘they’ shall make their destination safely.