Cumulus
- Cumulus
Do you see yonder cloud that’s almost in shape of a camel?
By th’ mass, and ’tis like a camel indeed.
Methinks it is like a weasel.
It is backed like a weasel.
Or like a whale.
Very like a whale.
—shakespeare
Forget the old science of water dropletsclinging to sky-blown dust.
The truth is these are the sailboats of gods,climbing and crossing waves of sky
in a race to the borders of daylight.See how their sails turn red at sunset?
Then again, these seem less like sailsthan wind, than the misty breath of giants
snoring under the rocks and forests,shaking the world in their sleep.
Actually, though, they’re less like breaththan words, than airmailed messages
sent by lakes to faraway valleys.I wish I could crack their code.
The truth really is they’re flying islands,mirrors of thought, lakes in the sky,
modeling clay for cherubs and angels,airliners filled with traveling dreams. [End Page 336]
tom raithel is the author of Dark Leaves, Strange Light. His poems have appeared in Midwest Quarterly, Atlanta Review, and Comstock Review, and were also included in The Boom Project—Voices of a Generation. He lives in Cleveland, Ohio, with his wife, Theresa.
