The skyline is littered with white smudges.
“Clouds” are what they are called,
though these look more like cotton balls than patches of gas
dense and weighted by the thousands of feet that dance in Heaven
Airplanes take rest on the duvet of the skyline,
playing hopscotch when they awaken
skipping over continents that lie asleep
and tiptoeing into the bedrooms of cities,
careful not to turn on the lights…
Haringey Unchained 