Clouds by Stan Phillips
It looked at first, From where I stood, Like a Unicorn, Galloping free with its white mane, Streaming like the foam that is fashioned by the breaking tide, that rises wildly into the day. It's eyes, fierce and determined, were watching the way ahead, and it's hooves struck sparks from the earth, so frantic was it's flight. My galloping, Here one moment, And gone the next, Unicorn.
It was flying, white, across the skies. Shifting and changing with the passing moment. Ephemeral, like a butterfly, or a falling tear, the vision shivers and turns, before my gaze, and becomes a sea god. Poseidon, sitting bethroned with his trident pointing to the sky as he rides his chariot into the fading day. And the heavens are set on fire with the daily dying of the sun. Clouds, clouds. Look at them as they fill the sky. Watch the shapes of them as they come and fade. And listen to hear the wordless story songs they sing to us. Stan Phillips 2020(C)
Stan Phillips is an 80 year old poet, musical podcast maker, part-time wannabe male model, and occasional stand up comedian. “I used to be a psychotherapist/counsellor when I had an honest job. I was born into prewar London, and attended 17 schools (my father believed they couldn’t hit a moving target) and I eventually finished up here in Ireland. Still wondering what I will be when I grow up — but enjoying writing my quirky poetry as I do so.” Discover more about Stan on Mom’s Favorite Reads website: https://moms-favorite-reads.com/moms-authors/stan-phillips - 24 -