I Sometimes Think of Clouds

As I drove home from church in Limon, I saw the very kind of clouds that bring me back to times in childhood where I would lie on my back and pretend I saw mythical creatures and even some common barnyard friends. I longed for the past, or at least a present with warm sun on my face, cool grass on my back, and a gentle breeze to carry my thoughts as high as the clouds. A couple of years ago, I wrote this poem after watching the clouds. You may need to use your imagination and float into my magical world.

Clouds

Opalescent ice sculptures stood massive,
a power greater than themselves, concealed,
beautified and intensified by white hot edges.
I entered

I drifted through random figures
each soft frosted surface evolved,
intricate crystallized subtleties,
hanging from the blue tiles

milk flowed like fog spilled on the floor
ever changed,
works of art shattered by a thought,
melted by inattention

I touched hard lines of castles,
soft folds of fleece,
plump cheeks, round noses,
and angular sails,

a tree, a bird, a rabbit, a lion
carved deeply in ice
I floated by them,
undisturbed

the cotton candy scent drew me
nearer the boiling cold collection
amid the shifting menagerie
I saw a litter of kittens
tumble in the indigo paint


shades deepened, gray, mauve, azure, cobalt
the colors of the stormy sea
white capped edges,
foam and spume erupted over each piece

lying on my back warm in the sun
time ceased
one artist after another displayed their wares
towering toward the grassy jade sky

I looked down on them all and smiled
the sky prickled my back
I jumped down, content to know
I can visit again tomorrow

Plover Lover
July 21, 2007