I almost can remember
Times of cloud travel,
Being so attentive and receptive
That I could move along the currents of the air
And let myself be gathered and dispersed
And turned in languid, stretching shapes,
My will as fluid as the wind’s direction,
Learning, as I went, where I was going.
It was an easy thing, upon arrival,
To center in, to grow more dense, more focused
So that I could lightly drop
from air to ground
and into solid form.
©Wendy Mulhern
April 12, 2013