As the Cloud spreads its Wings made of Ocean
Over the horizon, Mountain-Bouquets--
And the world is beheld in Reflection
The Feathers of the Molecules Unbound
Rain far and Wide within their Thunder
That may not Fall to Earth as yet Ascend
Contented by Wind-Benign Attraction
Beyond and Far-Away as they Wander
Playful Cumulus Bastion of Worry
Growing ever Heavier than Heaven
Pressed against the Ominous Filtered Air
Its Presence Gathers Surface from Its Urn.
A Vehicle, A Vessel, and A Plume
Flies to its Original Source Returns
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