Pattern #68 I-Cloud

What will the cloud hold next?
More than raindrops?

The i-Clouds
“got the dirt”
on you!
holds it in the haze
flies it past mountains
screens it from hawks.
Then rains it down as mud
that thuds on heads:
splotches eyes
drips off nose
blows its spatter
on what matters.
Birds
sift for seeds
to grow trees
that grow leaves
to scatter into soil
for clouds to suck
to “hold the dirt”
on you.

How Can a Poet Tell A Man’s Been In the Kitchen?

Messy Kitchen Sink

(sing to the tune of The Happy Wanderer)

When oft’ I go a wandering,
My nap sack on my back,
I know my man leaves odd footprints:
The kitchen floor has tracks!

I can hear, I can see,
I can hear
I can see ee ee ee ee ee
I can see
The kitchen floor has tracks!

The cabinets are open wide,
The sugar’s sprinkled high,
The dirt’s pressed down upon its side,
Like bird poo dropped from nigh!

I pull out pen and quickly write
As far as I can see;
While scrubbing clean the stains to right
And ordering cleanly!

I whisk the broom; collect the crumbs,
The meters in my step
The pots and pans, the prunes and plums
Are shining bright, yep, yep!

It’s time for rhyme and rhythm now,
The counters neat; food stacked.
The order’s back, you smell the chow:
“Come down and interact!”

I-Clouds Got the Dirt on You

What will the cloud hold next?
More than raindrops?

The i-Clouds
“got the dirt”
on you!

holds it in the haze
flies it past mountains
screens it from hawks.

Then rains it down as mud
that thuds on heads:
splotches eyes
drips off nose
blows its spatter
on what matters.

Birds
sift for seeds
to grow trees
that grow leaves
to scatter into soil
for clouds to suck
to “hold the dirt”
on you.