Early Morning Drama

What is the gender
of a cloud, or a mountain,
or the sun?

He rolled in this morning
sly, puffed up,
impressive.
She lay stone-still as he blanketed
her ridge, holding at treeline,
giving the appearance of snowcap,
postcard perfect.
For moments they were one.

Then, like clockwork, the eastern sky
ignited, golden,
jealous.
Suddenly the whole affair dissolved.
The rival trailed away
as the sun began his watch.
But clouds are patient,
evening always comes.

She faced the day like any other day,
unshaken, integral.
Only the rocks live forever.