They signify uncertainty,
The middle way between zero
And one. Dragging their blue curtains
Decorated with dry lightning
In the distance, they could touch ground—
A storm’s a possibility
In the immediate future
But a coin flip from certainty.
That’s why such weather’s ominous.
It’s not that there will be a storm
But that there might be, might not be.
When something doesn’t signify
A more-than-likely yes or no,
That’s when it can be meaningful.
You scrutinize the fine blue veils.
Was that wet you felt on your neck?