Some kinds of clouds stream
and streak the blue sky
like a focal point
spreading its beams of life
drawing us to the horizon.
Do you feel like answering its call?
Do you want to see where
the life of the sky came from,
the natural rays of
lightly manifested airbrushed
clouds or the stronger
streaks of a more grabbing
imagination beckoning our
more simple moments to
wonder at the power of the
source of clouds. They
are simple and maybe it’s
the simplest moments that mean
we have faith. What bravery, to
be as a child and wonder
where that line across the sky
came from when we probably just
looked too late and it came from a
jet, or maybe not.
From book of poetry, “Birds Kill My Wings” (2001)
kaleidoscopeonline.ca 