|TFR Home Page||Contents||Prev. Page||Next Page||Comments|
|The Nonsense of Clouds|
By Kirsten Campbell
Oh, the absolute nonsense of clouds.
To be an iridescent powdery mist
and float across the ocean,
play tag for miles and miles
above and beyond
cavities and chasms,
grand mounds of ethereal green.
No tragedy. No trickery.
No benevolent tests of faith.
Only flight. And every once in a while,
release. Rain. Glorious cleansing rain
lightens the load and once again allows flight,
fluid movement on gossamer winds.
The steadfast lightness,
and blatant abundance
of absolute solitude.
Oh, the nonsense of clouds
and their cohorts, the heavens...
© Copyright 1999, Kirsten Campbell.
© Copyright 1997, 2023, The Fairfield Review Inc., All Rights Reserved.
Document last modified on: 12/10/2000