Burgeoning Clouds


The rain came in hesitant bursts
Tentacles spawning and retracting
A jellyfish moving in an ocean of silted sky

I drank from the oval bowl
Sipping the gratitude of high places
Open vistas unleashing boxed thoughts
Passing through me
Wind with voiceless imprints
Liquid whispers
A drink for the thirsty held to parched lips
Blistered from too much sun and confinement

I never did well in small spaces
Even in forested places
The trees suffocated
Sped my heart, pulling me upward
Never wanting to be grounded
Too much earth to contend with
Perimeters to pinch at my skin
My legs climb with language
The patter of sole to dirt

I wove my body into the stretched fabric
Of mist and memory
Of land where water fell, tripped and searched
Into the seas carrying
Old man with creased faces and bulbous noses
Women with daggers and babies, lovers in waiting
Finger painting a sky with my mind’s eye
So childlike in sight
My body could disintegrate
Leaving me with immortal vision
Enough to drink distance
Until peaks bow into light

As rain streaks the sky
Blossoming into an array of color
A glorious arch rewards those with
Lifted heads
A willingness to wait out storms
A mind quiet enough to understand
We choose our view
In the burgeon of clouds



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