Walking home is ecstasy when clouds decide to cry
To pout with their big puffy lips and spin the wind around
Creating a ballet too elegant to be seen by the eyes of man
It's simply too bad that more people aren't crazy enough
To reach up and ask the lonely clouds to dance.
The puddles create little portals, through which
The world is reflected back against itself more clearly
And on a rainy day the droplets hit these mirrors hard
Shattering the peace to reach back toward the sky
If only they could bounce high enough to return home.
Leaves cling to each other in the gutters or in yards
Hoping for a ray of sun to pierce the biting cold
Or a wandering child to kick up their close packed piles
And free them from their lovely clumps of color
So that they could once again freely fly.