In the currents of the sky, where clouds as suspended droplets sway,
I see a dragon looking down at me in the first light of day.
Its scales are made of silver, ethereal in their celestial sheen,
Cloud dragons are guardians of dreams both fierce and serene.
Another cloud blows by another dream dragon takes flight,
Wings spread wide flying ever higher in the soft morning light.
Clouds have always been dragons, in the azure expanse,
A mythical mayhem transformed into a whimsical dance.
of the wind, and in each wisp and swirl there are dragons of old.
With tales in their tails, atop treasure hoards, they sit brave and bold.
Didn’t you know that the first breath of morning is really a dragon’s yawn,
and with its fiery breath, the cloud dragon paints the colors of dawn?
In every shape and every curl, they soar on currents, both high and wide,
Clouds transform into dragons, a celestial parade, a mystical ride.
All clouds are dragons, and they fly in the skies forever untamed,
in the dreamer’s mind, and the poet’s eye, their forms are named.
WoPoLi 
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