Clouds Dream Too
So still I forget they are alive
That I am alive
How can they be so perfect
When they don’t make any sense
Window seat in the airplane, the best view for patchy white ribbons shielding melting mountains and harsh yellowed hills
Tanning and freckling a little too much, peering from under my hand shading my face and Ray-Ban shades, the best view to see their glowing edges dotting baby blue skies
Sometimes cotton ball coils coming off from my sherpa blanket stretching across the horizon, leaking gold, orange, and pink
Sometimes slate gray puddles splashed across a growing blackened canvas, spilling defiance and an expecting air into the mood
Never the same and always infinite
The casual beauty of the world
Stopping us in our tracks
Two children pick furiously at the dandelions in a fresh green field, lie on their backs, and look up
The girl asks, which one is that? A dragon. A mustached man. Why not both
Whatever we want it to be.
Years later, the same spring in her step as she runs to catch the clouds
Her hand passes through but her eyes widen and a smile appears, allowing soft laughter to escape
The sky matches her emotion, overwhelming and embracing her
You’re okay. I’m here.
It remembers how she once wondered
You can be both.
My dreams and faith wisped into the universe