Half blue day

Got the clouds on a string
(or do they have me)
I don’t know why
or where they’re going
 – what they so burdened dream
in gathering swell, in trailing dissolution
thin hand raised against the sun
where they end and I begin
a perturbation on the face
in the disavowal of their exhalations
gone repletely smoothly
only that 
in the fleet urgence of our conspiracy
their  hesitant pull
so easily lifts