Clouds

My two friends and I taunted the big clouds with ominous bottoms and
      silvery white billowing sides and though we had heard their 
      thunder and seen their fire and knew them to be more dangerous 
      than the wolves under our beds, 

Still we sang. 

"Come down!  We are not afraid of you!"

Then all by myself I shouted, 

"Come down and get me----I dare you!"

The grown up with us urged us on down the street.

She was afraid.  

As we escaped my friends glanced with apprehension over their 	
	shoulders for even little children recognize hubris and know its 
	probable  consequences,

Yet we retreated like Odysseus in his ship shouting impudently at the
        Cyclops thus creating a target of sound that the giant lost in 
	his  malevolent darkness might still crush.

Now of course it has all been explained. 

I don't speak to clouds anymore, 

And I know there is only darkness under my bed.