Poetry: Mountain Clouds

Thoughts on summer clouds.

Towering gray-white

Columns of pure form,

An ethereal kind of material.

Spreading skyward

And stretching our thoughts

20,000

30,000

40,000 feet upwards;

Looking down on the noble mountain peaks,

But at the same time

Not looking down at all.

Rather calling us up,

Saying:

This ecstasy you feel

Is no fantasy.

Saying:

The magic of existence

Is visible in you

As well.