(C)louds

Clouds a gurgle
uncertain rumble
it might or it might not
they could have but just murmured
bashful promise of timid rains
expeditiously forgotten
wafting in broken wisps
of million grey thread thin hues
dispersed without a care
to perhaps rain
or even make good on the grumble
from faraway cast out skies
whispering threats
like dead tempests
crying with dry tears
making such noise