in the midst of rippling mudflats,
a hexagon of towers
ground six cylinders of steam
which turn to air/
some distance directly below
a smeared sphere, the only cloud
low in the sky.
the towers are large, they span
a Boeing parking lot, that is:
a few acres.
but the shadow drawn by the sun
is larger still, stretching to
the large river, and for some
reason it seems to bear repeating,
that clouds can have clear shadows,
sharp edges, when from the sky
one looks towards the sun.