For Paul Brookes’ challenge. The photos that inspired this poem are on Paul’s blog here.

Cloud wings and arms

When the sky is laid bare,
stripped of our constraining walls,
garlands of lights and other ephemera,
when nothing protects us from the glare
of eternity, the great beyond,

some see an overarching comfort,
strength in the forming and unforming of air.
Angel, they say, benevolent power.

I see a bird buffeted by storm winds,
soaring on unseen currents,
mastering the billows of the sky,
pinions and hollow bones feather-light,
a tiny majestic thing.