This is my poem in response to all Paul Brookes’ cloud photos. You can see them on Paul’s blog here.

Sky-birth

There are days when the sky sucks the life
from the earth, feeds on the stillness
the dry, the wet, the leafed and the stony,
draws all into the cloud-bloat above.

We crouch beneath the great presence,
longing for the rupture, the breaking of waters,
to birth a sea of tranquillity.