The clouds in formation marched in unison.
Sporting immaculate starched uniforms.
They leisurely marched across fields of blue.
Unhindered by roads. Undaunted by fences.
Unleashed by the Sun’s terse, “March through the skies.”
So they marched like soldiers. Soldiers to war.
Ceaseless. Restless. Unfurling their wisps.
But ever marching. Ever rolling to unknowable adversaries.