Clouds

With bulging sails
Clouds in the cool October blue
Speed out from somewhere west
To somewhere east.

Walking below, my eyes
With envy watch their passage.
Given a glider, or a kestrel's wings,
I'd thumb a lift on thermals,
Step aboard, and sail
Out of this workaday self.

They're only vapour,
Workaday self admonishes.
Up there, I should be lost
In Pennine mist.
Down here, at least my feet
Know which way home.

Workaday feet obey:
Rebellious eyes
Still chart a passage.