On The Spiritual Practice Of Clouds They can congregate or be A lone mendicant wandering the blue They never seem to know when They are given birth to Nor when they will give birth To those who never know when They will be given birth to They concentrate they consolidate They fly apart in the wind There is one now a child with its plaything Being bidden to come along or this one A woman at the well weeping Now it is night and yet they continue to practice Moving toward the moon like worshipers in the night
Gerry Grubbs has a book forthcoming from Dos Madres Press, Learning A New Way To Listen.
Amethyst Review 