Today’s poem from quarantine is suggested by the word pondering. Next in a series of poems suggested by words gathered from my friends and family.
“Upon A Cloud”
Lumbering. Perhaps: Burdensome.
That’s what it feels like right now.
It should be light, I guess. Even: whimsical,
made for summer days:
sweet breezes and birds chirping.
But this feels as delicate as…
…as the thunder of elephants.
Perhaps that comes from the word itself:
PONDERING. Sounds like PONDEROUS.
Maybe I’m letting too much me in.
I need to breathe out, let the spring wind
cleanse the baffles, excise the PONDERATION
like so much exhalation.
That’s better.
What? That cloud there?
Looks like an elephant to me.
Ponder too long and now it’s a dog.
Oh? Me?
I’m just pondering the nature of a cloud
and letting all else be.
a simple man 