I. Let me be above the clouds
just for a moment;
up here, I can breathe.
The worries of the earth have to leave me alone.
I can’t tend to my garden above the clouds.
I can only dream of the roses, peonies & lilacs
that will make my home a glorious altar to the senses.
I can’t harvest my vegetables.
I can only wonder at the memory or the prospect of a meal
crafted with love to nourish family & friends.
I can’t survey the disasters of flood & famine, wrath or war.
For better or worse, I can only float in peace.

II. Sometimes, I desire that my view of the heavens
would be unobstructed by the breadth of my wings.
I could fly totally free and untethered.
But, it’s the sight of the wing that centers me;
reminds me of my duty on the ground.

III. For it is not yet my time to live above the clouds.
I’m merely a transient visitor, temporarily exploring
a realm I can’t yet fully comprehend.
The sun, moon & stars prefer that I should descend,
that I might better appreciate the dulled shine
of their far-off beauty.
For it is not my place to concern myself with great matters
or things too wonderful for me.

So, let my soul soar above the clouds
as my feet rest sure & rooted on the ground.

Originally published in Objects Things Stuff—Messy Bits We Carry Around (Dark Thirty Poetry Publishing, 2025)

SDG