The cloud stretched out in streaky veins
Beneath the morning sun,
Or else, perhaps, like streams from rains
In days before begun.
One vein reached out and chucked a chin
that followed close behind;
Which seemed the purpose of that thin,
and most beguiling line.
Away floated the pair, and I
So far below them knew
That soon they’d vanish from the sky,
To nature being true.