Drifting

What if I were a cloud
drifting along in the springtime 
caressing the sky with my
gentle emptiness 

moving together and apart
into shapes of animals, plants, places, feelings 
and whatever else people see
when they look at me

identity in purposelessness
there is nothing to do, no one to impress
molecules of my wishes dispersed over miles of endless blue
seeking to find each other in solid form

where am I in 60, 600, 6000 seconds? 
it’s none of my concern
my mind has evaporated into droplets of sweet, aching surrender 
basking in blissful aimlessness 

Even luscious, silky boxes wrapped
with carefully crafted ribbons cannot contain my forever-changing heart
which longs to spend my days 
blowing kisses at the stars