Chasing shadows cast by clouds:

At rare times within that perfect pause
     where soft sunset and twilight meet.
And our hillsides and the valley walls
     are drenched in red and gold and pink.

I find my mind goes a wandering
     enmeshed in Nature's old allure.
And has after clouds gone following
     seeking within the skies a door.


(That I once saw opened years before.)


Through a veil within an autumn sky
     I watched a cloud become a swan.
Which on purest wings of white did fly
     through doors of night and then was gone.

Or perhaps it was a silver ship?
     twas long ago I can't recall
Or understand this memory’s grip
     and longing that I feel, at all.

While looking West as twilight falls.