Above the Clouds by Francis Conlon

Francis Conlon | March 6th, 2024 | poetry | No Comments

Poet Bio

Above the clouds, the heavens lay,
In harmony with stars and cosmic play,
So white and puffy are the clouds,
Where wind and poems are allowed.
Could I fly up there to stay?

So many thoughts fly up to heaven,
Prayers make the mix light with leaven.
Is paradise located but so rare?
That seems a thought so unfair,
Drawing a smile as a wispy expression.

Clouds seem to have no special bones,
And, no meaning from some Rosetta Stone.
Their shapes change and play,
A mysterious sighting, rather fey.
Maybe spirits here have homes.

I’ll travel upwards in this pause,
Then sent back to earth, for cause,
My spirit so strong of wing.
For poems and songs must sing,
In harmony with clouds’ puffy laws.

Poet Bio

Francis Conlon is a retired and recovering teacher. For the past 20 years, he has worked as a seasonal river ranger and boat inspector at Yampa River State Park in northwest Colorado. He has published in the local Valley Voice and in Westward Quarterly. He currently lives in Salt Lake City, Utah.

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