One Grey Cloud
by dan ankers
One grey cloud is not enough
One grey cloud is never enough
They like to come in packs, like wolves
In droves, like flocks of pooping gulls
I see them form the shapes of skulls
In monumental overhauls
Above my waiting, bated breath
Insinuating certain death
In packs and droves
While here am I
The one who ponders
Just who am I?
I watch them swoop right in, like flies
Like pterodactyl’s in the skies
Portend-ers of the coming moon
Attendees at my funeral swoon
As closer to my death am I
Admitting this is no small feat
It makes a person’s life complete
It makes the moments tidy, neat
It helps me put forth, as I ponder
Such urgency, as my thoughts do tend to wander
And it holds me to a much higher standard
Than heretofore, I’d ever dared to gander
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