The cloud has travelled many miles,
lugging a heavy burden
of dark dampness over the land,
billowing out cold breaths
as it struggled forward,
whipped by the cracked cheeks of the wind.
It crept on through the fading light,
looking for release, looking for rest,
longing for sleep, longing for the sea.
Now, in a last flourish of wild theatre
it splits itself open and spills its load,
finding one last gasp of dignity,
as it takes its bow on a stage strewn with bodies.
The rain slips away, sifts down gently.
It has waited this long, there is no hurry.
The cloud sighs and fades into the horizon,
pale and weary, spent.
Ready for sleep.