The skylark, singing.
Clouds; but those that reach the mountaintop
fall as rain, giggling and gurgling.
A swan, slow to start, duckpond runway,
lifting largely, broad wings set free.
Incense laden with prayers,
pious particles.
A child on a trampoline, up, up,
down to earth with a bounce and up again.
A balloon making a break for it;
tears running down a red face.
A jump jet, improbably vertical, pregnant with fire.
Smoke and steam, volcanic ash
blankets the atmosphere, straining away,
orbiting with the satellites and the space junk
and Jesus.