The sky burst open like a birthday gift
Mushroomed like a bouquet of white crysanthemums
Put on a show that would make my fine german paints throw up their hands in frustration

I’ve been told there aren’t clouds in Northern California like the ones we have here
I’ve heard a similar thing at many points over the years. Something about the clouds here is special. But no one can tell me what that is

The clouds dance for free
and some will pay extra for a table
to watch them breathe and change
from one stunning soundscape
to another and another
Faster than you can take it all in 

Every color a flavor
We must imagine what it is
An acid lemon, an artificial blue razberry
Blood and mangosteen iron
Cantaloupe guava
Something mauve and electric
mango stew, mulberry, adzuki bean, taro

Thanking us for being here
A Mingus parade of sounds
An impossible metropolis
of neon strawberry pink
and low cello notes of grape.