A Ceiling of Clouds

I startle when I step outside,

the sky has clouds today,

and not just the occasional

puffy white cotton ball

or the thin grayish whisps

at the edge of the hills.

Instead the clouds form

a ceiling of cotton batting

cut in a perfect rectangle

and hung over my head

to remind me just how high

the edge of the sky is.

Later, the clouds will trail

after the sun, stretching

to the horizon and slowly

turning a brilliant pink

as though dipped in a vat

of fuchsia dye and left.

But for now, they remain

a white and brilliant stripe

against the otherwise clear

blue sky.