I love my clouds. Any type will do. Long tube clouds. Puff clouds againts a robin-egg’s blue backdrop. The clouds I hold nearest to my heart are my storm gray clouds. Their preciouse silver swirls pluming, growing, shrinking, moving always moving. They are constantly on the edge of quiet and storm. You can feel the almost the rain that will never come on your skin. You can see the almost lightning on the horizen almost dancing but never will. You can hear the almost thunder that will never sound. Mock clouds? Please! They are my clouds.