A soapy sky

Filled with bubbles

Falling all over our heads

Dust embroiled with steam

Dirts downstream

Is there a way to filter the air

With giant cotton towels

Air filters deconstructed paper towels

Can we pull out the weeds and scrub the sky

Like giant wind turbines reducing the pollution

It is a weak gesture

But a possible solution

A soapy sky calls us back

And we force it to voicemail