The Whale of Wandering Clouds.

A mountain moves across the summer blue,

With fins of vapor and a tail of mist;

It swims through oceans that the eagles knew,

And peaks that only morning light has kissed.

It drinks the rain before it hits the ground,

To feed the thunder in its hollow belly;

While far below, the world is wrapped in sound,

Of storms that make the mortal spirit jelly.

The lightning is the pulsing of its heart,

A sudden flash within the heavy gray;

That tears the fabric of the sky apart,

Before the giant drifts upon its way.

It leaves a wake of silver in the air,

A silent ghost of water and of prayer.