After Kalidasa (Addressing the Cloud, the poet muses on the tastelessness & tawdry appeal of commonplace cyber-communication, when compared with the subtle satisfactions of a proper Megadhuta-gram) [homage]

Do thou when trundling north O cloud
on winds of might that buffet you
note mortals clacking keyboards loud
till (glancing yon) they covet you?
who would (what maiden gold of mien)
prefer black clacking modes of speech
to dulcet whispers soft serene
in sundown hues: ocher & peach?