The Plane of Days Pass

I see planes..
flying off into the South...
they are a common feature..

But common,
the cloud patterns aren't; here..
everyday, everymoment, they're different..

Shape-shifting.. billowing..
like an inviting fluff of a bean bag..
an omnimous anvil of lightning & thunder..

cotton rug stretched flat, far and wide at times..
foggy grey brushstrokes without shape
that envelope the sun on other occassions..

I should like to put them all on canvas,
but even that would be impossible..
(ah, such is life) but i'll try till I know..
recreate infinity to outlast mortal soul.