The Clouds Above the Mountain Tops

Up above the mountain tops,

Where the eagles dare to hop,

Lies a world, of dreams and white,

The clouds, a wondrous sight.

Their shapes, a mystery, of the sky,

A canvas, for the sun and wind, to ply,

Their colors, a reflection, of the light,

A symphony, of beauty, in plain sight.

Some are fluffy, and soft, like down,

Others are wispy, and swirl, like a crown,

But all bring, the rain and snow,

To nourish the earth, below.

They hold, the secrets, of the sky,

Of the winds, that rush on by,

And the storms, that rage and roar,

With thunder and lightning, and so much more.

The clouds, they dance, and they play,

With the sun, and the stars, every day,

And they paint, a masterpiece, so fair,

That even the angels, stop and stare.

So next time, you gaze, at the sky,

And see the clouds, floating by,

Remember, the magic, that lies above,

And bask, in the wonder, of the clouds.