The Cloud

The Cloud [Lines from a poem written by Percy Bysshe Shelley, 1820] I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, From the seas and the streams; I bear light shade for the leaves when laid In their noonday dreams. From my wings are shaken the dews that waken The sweet buds every one, When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, As she dances about the sun. I wield the flail of the lashing hail, And whiten the green plains under, And then again I dissolve it in rain, And laugh as I pass in thunder. This lovely white cloud greeted me first thing this morning, and I couldn't resist preserving it in pictures, along with Mr. Shelley's beautiful poem. May your weekend be as glorious!