A Cloudy Day

She lives on the floor
of the spheres
about her ears
rivers of clouds swirl.
Her celestial gown
flows and steams
swiftly in variable
winds shifting east
to west west to east
a sweeping trail
of light and wet dust.

Deeper still the mud
rock ocean floor
the water almost
solid so pressed.
Mote stuffs suspend
where nothing not
comparable is created
has no fixed shape
and nothing rises
slowly to the surface
of its own floor.