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By John I. Blair

I've found
Each day
A chance
To feed
My soul
On sky
As clouds
Drift by.

I don't
See things
In clouds;
But rapt
I watch
Their shapes
Swirl, swell,
Mix, melt.

I've felt
Some way
I'm kin
Of clouds:
I too
Am grand,
But I
Won't stay.

2003 John I. Blair  

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