clouds slow the sky together. the sky now above below within. a nefarious, nimbostratus, neptuneous sky lies in wait. a storm catches our breath as it drops. does it fill us with sadness to be unable to trace the drops back up into their blue pinholes of origin? the rain will not allow us to name it. the sky is a steady downpour of what we want to be and where we have come from. the sky will not allow us to name ourselves.