Does anyone see me, I don’t care.

I’ve got places to go, shapes to take, though I know not where.

Like an actor in a play, I change.

Sometimes in the first peeking light of morning, I let you see a bit of me, but only a bit.

Sometimes as the morning comes, I’m those small, cotton balls, fluffy, cute, friendly.

Sometimes on those mornings, I’ve stretched myself from horizon to horizon.

Sometimes by noon, I’m with my brothers and sisters and we’ve gotten together to see if we can almost reach the heavens.

Sometimes by the afternoon, I have to show that I mean business.

Sometimes as my friend turns out the lights, I want to say good night with quite a finale.

Like an understudy, I’m here whether noticed or not.

Some notice me, with simple praise. “What glorious shapes.”

Some notice me, with humble gratitude, “A gentle rain is what our asters, our roses, our dahlias need.”

Some notice me, with words of confident hope. “It will be a good day.”

Some notice me, with uncertain caution. “There’s more to today than what I see.”

Some notice me, with rightful fear. “There’s danger in them I say.”

Some notice me, with definite annoyance. “I can’t take anymore, let’s find some shelter.”

Like the play, the days end comes.

Unlike the actors who take a bow and leave for home, I’ll still be around.

Day and night, I’ll be around.

And if it is not me, my brother or sister will take my place.

Whether you notice me or not.