Sometimes they swirl. A wild maelstrom of separate clouds, twisting and coiling in the circling winds.
Other times they bounce. Tiny bouncing seeds falling from great heights.
Often they flutter. Dancing on the breeze, flitting about in no discernible direction.
Occasionally they swim. Darting and turning in unison, in a school.
Rarely they are peaceful. Swaying in the breeze in a field.
They are never quiet.