A boy lies on his back looking at clouds. Only he is not looking, he is up there with them, up where they slide and collide mysterious as fate insubstantial as air. I have not seen clouds in sixty years, until today - there, overhead, in the blue sky that scrolls and unfolds - there, where they always were. ©

8 responses to “Clouds – A Poem”
sounds like the summers of my childhood in rural Quebec
LikeLike
Truly lovely.
I am, quite literally, compelled to go out and ponder at the clouds for a moment.
LikeLike
Thank you Daniel 🙂 I hope you saw in the clouds what you needed to see.
LikeLike
Haunting and memorable, again
LikeLike
And again, thank you, Ian
LikeLike
[…] shirts show signs of wear and tear, The collars frayed, the cuffs rubbed bare. I see the signals everywhere. I see them in my mind like doom. They float like ghosts upon the loom. I slip them on like skin, […]
LikeLike
O yes, familiar and secure. Then they disappear and turn up in old photos and you wonder about the passing of time.
LikeLike
Exactly 🙂
LikeLike