Like pulsing traffic
they wash across the blue
a conveyor of cotton
they move east
towards Moscow
(Idaho)
and Elk River
and the Sawtooths
until they squeeze together
too dense to float
nucleating around a mite
until they fall
and shred through
mountain, rock, and earth.
Pretty good for a cloud.
The year of the poem is finished, now it is the year for the protocol! Read about the misadventures of a plant scientist trying to make sense of photorespiration one mutant at a time.
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