Lying on my back and looking up
I saw a wispy shape
whose form and subtle movement
suggested whirlpool
or something slower
a curling in the fold of air
a blanket
a soft expression of the love
that swaddles us
but lets us fully breathe
gives us room and impetus to fly
this deep and tender caring
we call sky.
I tried to write these words
but upside down, my pen
would not cooperate
I sat up, shook it, made it write
and then looked up
The cloud was gone
but not the memory
of what it had conveyed.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 13, 2011