Higher than the Clouds

Go higher than the clouds

That hover round the mountaintops,

Surpass the wispy shrouds

Before their waiting water drops

And see another mountain-scape

Whose fluffy summits billow up

Where unimpeded sunbeams drape

Themselves upon the slopes.

An open hole suggests a cup

For light to pour its shining hopes

That touch the ones below the clouds

Whose vision does not penetrate

The layerings of spreading shrouds,

To see the brighter things that wait

Beyond and in each shadowed head

Where hope springs new and angels tread.

This is another poem that comes out of my recent travels. Whenever I'm in a plane and watch as we ascend above the clouds, I'm always struck by the landscapes that appear to exist on the upper side of the cloud layer. They seem to contain hills and valleys, as well as holes that reveal bits of the actual landscape far below. The beauty of it all never ceases to evoke a sense of wonder in me, and this poem attempts to begin to convey that.