Cirrus Serenade
Above the cerulean canvas, they unfold,
Veils of whispers spun from dreams untold.
The cirrus dancers, ethereal and free,
Painting celestial tales for you and me.
Their feathers brush the azure expanse,
High-Altitude wanderers in a cosmic dance.
Ice-crystal threads, spun by zephyr’s breath,
Weaving secrets of the sky, life, and death.
They stretch like silken ribbons, gossamer strands,
Carrying messages from distant lands.
Each filament a memory, a fleeting trace,
Of travelers, lovers, and celestial grace.
And when the sun retreats, casting its last glow,
Cirrus clouds catch fire, a golden snow.
They cradle the moon, a celestial lullaby,
Whispering secrets as night draws nigh.
So look up, my friend, when the day is done,
And witness the cirrus’ delicate ballet being spun.
For in their wisps, we find hope’s ascent,
A celestial serenade, a love letter sent.
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