In the new cloud park,
the forest ranger pulls on his gumboots
and steps out into mist.
He’s accustomed to trees,
and he doesn’t know quite what to do
with the clouds in his care.

Yes, he lied to the park superintendent,
told him he had experience in skyscaping.
The superintendent believed
because he wanted to.

Skyscapers are in demand, now,
in this wet, rainy climate.
Forest rangers, not so much
with so many of the forests gone.

He wasn’t sure he could take one more season
in the fire belt. He’ll learn how
to sculpt the clouds so people on the ground,
and in penthouse apartments can look up

See something besides the constant rain.
It’s either too much or not enough,
floods or fire. Clouds
are a tourist attraction now,

attracting visitors from the dry zones.
Some enterprising real estate agents
have been renting out balconies
in the clouds.

With a shovel, he beats the mist into a froth,
and with a custom made spatula, forms the high cloud,
spreads it like fondant. Briefly, the sun breaks through
making the frosting of his cloud cake pink

It’s a quick show, before the bottom falls out
and the rain begins again.
Good work, the superintendent says.
You might as well go home now. It will rain

until morning. The hours are erratic,
but at least it’s a job. He changes into street waders,
slides down the tube, and goes home.
The smell of fresh sourdough greets him at the door.

While he eats his bread and soup, he dreams of designs.
It can’t be cake every day. He thinks of an old movie,
wonders how hard it would be to make a cloud Godzilla.
Would the folks below even know who it was?