Poem 8.21.21 : A Cloud’s Nature

Take off into
a forest of no trees,
as it bends billows and curves
across my window.

As we rise,
sugar and salt foliage
sit still in the wind
bleaching the sky in white and gray.

As we rise,
the embers tease of heat,
distant and fading;
delightful lights
painting the silver forest
a cold dark garnet.

As we rise,
burnt are the salt water tips;
streaks of orange, ruby and gold
defy the orderly spectrum of light.

As we rise,
And without a flicker, they fade west.
Leaving silhouettes,
wildernesses without roots,
without, without form,
Only grey stained branches and fluff.

Ambivalent treetops graze the edge of the moons night, a rapidity approaching promise.

The covenant between the moon,
and sky forest,
the marriage of sugar, salt,
and the sun rays,
was never written but is rehearsed, daily.

I am so lucky to witness
A forest, treeless and
A fire, heatless.

I am so lucky to play witness
to the nature of clouds,
to be consumed by a wilderness
in the stars.

I am after all a tethered beast,
only imitating an angel,
gliding on open winds,
peering through a looking glass.

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