How does a cloud know when to burst
When the weight of its dream
Has turned into ballast
And its crystals ready to liquefy
Plummet to a scorched ground
Ready or not to receive it.
Down below a nimbus would seem
Able to hold afloat forever
Continue its wind-swept journeys
Shape shifting yet buoyant
In the substance of its dream
Here below
The frigid impermanence of clouds
Can’t be countenanced
Creatures of vapor and distance
As children decipher plants
Animals and edifices
Establish a call and response
With the morphing species
Nor can we fathom
The lightning and thunder
Of colliding dreams
Embraced by generations
We would rather hold on
To the one we favor
As the flooded ground gives in
Under our very feet.
Pina Piccolo, Imola, 12 November 2025
Cover image: Clouds from pexels-pixabay