Missing

By Andrew R. Duckworth

The clouds are nice
After a stormy day,
Sky coated in gray.
They don’t lie
As the clear skies often do.
They say it like it is-
Occasionally spit at you
For good measure.

The clouds are nice
On a Winter day
In a heavy coat.
Walking slow
Down a city sidewalk-
Little flakes of snow
Drifting down
In no hurry
To melt on the ground.

I miss everything-
The good and the dreary-
With my head turned
Down towards my technology.