Those Clouds Are Heavy, You Dig?

Once upon a time a cloud (a little cloud)

gathered her friends together and began to say, aloud,

"Friends, we can't find God. Isn't it odd?"

And they all agreed it was very odd, indeed,

to blow about the sky like a brainless seed.

"Something's really gone awry when older clouds oversimplify

when they say that it's just another day.

It's imperative we be somewhat more truly demonstrative

in becoming provocative.

Our parents neglect God, it's true - all their world is askew.

They go about bickering and scheme of possessing things

as though they own us, too, and own all that we do.

Yet they can't understand

just how foolish it is to build a house on sinking sand.

And when we cry

they say, "Oh my!

You'll grow out of it soon

and start singing a grown-up tune.'"

So the clouds made a vow,

since the grown-ups had lost God, somehow.

They would pick something out that would keep them aware

that they could take with them anywhere (like a lock of hair, or a pear)

- not an animal, or too big.

So the little ones looked around and up and down and in and out

and came up with a list:

They had a feather, erasers and string

pen knives and pencils and pieces of things

that they found in their pockets to spare

(and which they began to compare).

But the shiniest object (when looking them over) the thimble was brightest

and so they decided the thimble was rightest

for taking along and for knowing God was staying long and in their every day.

They knew where to find

their peace of mind

playing a game of tag or 'fame'

they simply had to call out the thimble's name.

Then, one day, the smallest

cloud took a big fall and

dropped the thimble from her hand.

And God turned to sand.

Just then, a wise old woman cloud happened along

and she asked the little cloud, "What's wrong?"

And the little cloud replied, "God's gone."

But the older cloud knew right away,

so she said to the little one, "Here's your thimble. I found it today."