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08/21/09 - (1)
The Clouds and the Stars
Could it be that the clouds are more numerous than the stars? Who can make that determination? Not I. I deal strictly in the numinous, the metaphysical, the poetic.
A meteorologist, an astronomer, I'm not. I'm best at describing a lake, like the one before me, At just the second it catches a charge of sunrays
Breaking through a blue interstice amidst the scud, In a pervasively fluffy overlay of black/gray/white striations Conspiring, with the sky, to rob Earth of its light...
Best at detecting water spirits flashing across rippling waves, Speaking, to me, in their untranslatable native tongues, Each refracting facet an epic my soul knows by heart —
Or is it my heart knows by soul? Either way, nature and I cherish our ongoing dialogue; It's the only way the two of us can keep in touch with my humanity.
And now, I recognize that what's infinitely more crucial, to me, Than assigning a number to the stars, the clouds, Is just taking the time to change places with the sky.
08/21/09 - (1)
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