High on mountain tops
Amid the clouds I wished to wander.
What do those billows feel like on the skin?
Is it smooth as polished cotton?
As silky as satin sheets?
Or is it textured like polka dots or bubble wrap?
At last I reach the cloud-enshrouded summit
And wade into the moist gathering
As if I were passing among spirits:
Reverently my hand moves through the strands of haze
With less pressure, less presence than water
But more dense and damp than fog,
My face and fingers feel lightly lapped
By many invisible tongues.
Amid the clouds I wished to wander.
What do those billows feel like on the skin?
Is it smooth as polished cotton?
As silky as satin sheets?
Or is it textured like polka dots or bubble wrap?
At last I reach the cloud-enshrouded summit
And wade into the moist gathering
As if I were passing among spirits:
Reverently my hand moves through the strands of haze
With less pressure, less presence than water
But more dense and damp than fog,
My face and fingers feel lightly lapped
By many invisible tongues.
started February 2010, finished July 2010
You describe the cloud enshrouded perfectly. Many days here are such.
ReplyDeleteI could feel every single one of your sensations. Beautifully done.
ReplyDelete