LOOKING AT SHAPES IN CLOUDS

as seen from your back
on the field of rough grass and
flowers that tickle as the world
gets a little bit warmer:

two tellers of stories
meet in the ether
turn into the subjects of
each other’s art form

anything but crushed
by the weight of the sky
hands drawing the shape
of yielding hands

ghosts caught in suspension
whispered over the earth
by a voice so far away
it cannot be heard