The clouds are grey
and ominous
and still
they are beautiful.

How is that?

Is it the shape
of the heavy objects above
floating towards their eventual destination
never telling when
they might unload
whatever they may hold?

Is it the nearby sun
contrasting such dark
with a brightness
that imbues some sense of hope

or
is there something
in the eye of the beholder
making one see glory
even in these cold
shrinking hours?

There aren’t answers.
There are simply clouds
grey clouds
and now rain
and that too
holds its own beauty.