Aerations

I love when the clouds saunter by
Between midnight and the break of day
And when the moon has sunk away
Beyond our occidental sky.

No rain tonight...the air is dry
As it shuffles over every head;
As if afraid to wake the dead
Or goad a nightmare up to fly,
in spoilation of the dreams
We sleeping mortals have come to love
Regarding all the glory above
The gravitas of Earth regimes;

A finite place where the flesh is trapped...
In a mist the muse considers apt.