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Now, take a look at yourselves. You are all wiggly. Look at the way the stars are arranged.

A Breath Above the Clouds : Poems by -

Do you criticize the way the stars are arranged? Low clouds, drooping at the edges like felt sailed over the woods and rain leapt from them, warm, smelling of soil and sweat, and washing the last of the black armor-plating of ice from the earth. I remember sunset, and gentle breeze. Leaving the city lights behind, and gazing at the moon.

Mountains of clouds.

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Waves slapping our boat. It was easy to forget that love has no direction, or need for compass. Let it guide you to its destination. I wished I could open the window and know what the world sounded like at that altitude. I thought about the solitude of that world, how it must be inhabited by the voice of the wind, only. I thought about what my crows saw as they flew above canyons and treetops, the birds-eye view of life. They would recognize specific trees, perches, and nesting sites from a completely different perspective than I could.

Their maps differed from mine; they knew the topography, the contours of the landscape, on a much grander scale. Church, The Atomic Weight of Love. Danforth, The Miseducation of Cameron Post. And nobody got wet.

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It is grey, becoming darker as the world turns herself round a little more. They are formed of water, and water, however minutely divided or blown into bubbles, is always heavier than the air. And yet these flying fountains of all the rivers of earth, these armed and thundering legions of the storm, that beat down the forests with hail and bury the mountains in snow, and flood the plains with water, go floating over us at vast heights with all their mighty magazines when all our philosophy would require them to sink to the earth.

How is the water-dust suspended in the atmosphere? Sometimes we see a dense heavy mist lying so thickly over the fields that it seems as if nothing could dissipate it, yet it is so thin and frail that the sun rapidly melts it away. At other times we look on colossal mountains of cloud, and see the sunlight beating on them all day long; yet they resist him victoriously, and shine in more wonderful splendour when he sinks below the horizon, and then they mysteriously steal away, and bright stars shine serenely where they stood.

You are standing in the sky.

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When we think of the sky, we tend to look up, but the sky actually begins at the earth. Behind me and before me is God and I have no fears. It is the poetry of Nature; it is that which uplifts the spirit within us. Live purely. Be quiet. Do your work with mastery. Like the moon, come out from behind the clouds! VI, edited by James Hamilton, Never waste any amount of time doing anything important when there is a sunset outside that you should be sitting under! I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills Yet the powers of numbers cannot compute its enormous age,—lasting as space and time,—embosomed in time and space.

And you can stand on your stoop or in your dooryard at midafternoon and watch the cloud shadows rush across Griffen's pasture and up Schoolyard Hill, light and dark, light and dark, like the shutters of the gods being opened and closed. It dusked the quiet meadow, And the glistening grass; It dimmed the forest fountain And the clover lea; It deepened on the mountain, Darkened on the sea.

VI, edited by James Hamilton, The vast space above us—so near, and yet in many respects so far beyond our reach, so familiar, and yet so strange Browning [The Morning Moon:] The stars burned out in the pale blue air, And the thin, white moon lay withering there. Brooks, The moon hung low in the sky like a yellow skull.

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  • From time to time a huge misshapen cloud stretched a long arm across and hid it. VI, edited by James Hamilton, Clouds are like boogers hanging on the nostrils of the moon. What is that apparition of dazzling brightness rising softly upon the blue sky from behind those tall and massive elms? If you saw it for the first time in your life, you would say it must be some celestial visitant. Is it light itself from heaven taking shape, and just softened and subdued to the endurance of a mortal vision?

    It is nothing but a cloud! I feel bad enough as it is! Thank you all for the warm comments, camaraderie, and encouragement!

    Clouds Above The Sea - Poem by Philip Levine

    I will still be here, reading, uploading and just being the Rascal that I am. I hope that you go and grab it. If you do, I would also hope that you find it worthy, you would leave me a good review. That will help me get in the public eye! Soon afterwards days or so , it will be available in paperback. Find the book s here: www. Wish me luck! Umi Mar Drifting Clouds. Pursue the delicate moonlight shining beyond the scene, illuminating the grass of the coming spring in an ghastly silver yet majestic green Clouds with their sterling lining, the cummuters of the heaven, preventing the sun, or the moon sometimes from shining down to us, Seemingly caught in an endless journey they travel with the wind, Yet under these drifting clouds in the sweetest of lights, the world remains to be in slumber, a story which never truly unfurls after all, Can you gaze into a face fraught with sin, possessed by the one you share this dazzling night with on a day alike the tale of a dream?

    Jo Barber Apr Dreams of Clouds. I dream of clouds that never rain. I dream of orange-colored umbrellas that shade us from both the sun and the downpours. I dream of sweet, sandy shores. I saw something in your countenance that almost haunts me.

    We all let ourselves dream as much as we want. I want to stop dreaming and have the real thing. Umi Feb The Rain. The sky above me, closed in as the dark, ominous yet fascinating rainclouds have driven near, gathering together in a council. As it begins to drizzle, soft, warm and little raindrops, fall in line, gently, carelessly hitting the earth, moistening it in their line. Once in a while, as the rain gains its strengh, hitting the ground below with more speed and roughlessness in their action, Rays of the purest light, sent by the sun as it shines above the darkening sky, a sensation for ones optic nerv, a sensation for the eye, make it through and let this scene shine further more.

    Graceful drops, carrried and distorted by the majestic wind, Create a lovely melody on my window, as they one by one fly into it.