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."