Mating clouds

I wonder:
How even a fallen leaf reminds me
Of her?

As a train chugs by,
And insects mate with LEDs,
Both creating neon images,
I sit up on her bed 
And wonder: 
How this came to be?

In a sleepy, remote village,
Under a thatched roof's lighthouse,
As a rooster crows early morning,
Waking up even the goats,
I sit up on her bed 
And wonder: 
How this came to be?

As dark, about-to-mate clouds arrive,
But don't ejaculate,
I stand on her parched fields
And wonder:
How between our bedsheets, 
Those clouds mate?