The Mysterious Clouds of Slow Lake

They can't be different. They can't.
Clouds are clouds around the world.
In time-lapse photography,
These would boil across the blue
As time-lapsed clouds always do.
And yet they don't. They don't move,
Not in a teachable way.

They can't be different. They can't.
Motionless as palace guards,
Numerous as pin angels,
Solemn as white-wigged judges,
They disappear and appear.
Nothing you notice changes,
And all you notice is change.