Penultimate day of Paul Brookes’ challenge. You can see the cloud photographs that inspired this poem here.

Heavy sky

How can we bear to raise our eyes
to the oceans and icefields above our heads,
knowing the immensity of blue and white
worlds washing from horizon to horizon,
where winds blow with feathers in their wings?

Knowing, we watch instead the ground
and where we tread, fixed on self,
the sky too heavy, pregnant with import,
omens, reflected wisdoms to heed.

We tread on broken shells,
content in our bliss.