It's Still Life

The Architecture of a Moment

Enter a Cloud

The heartbeat of percussion
in his ear, not drum,
but the world’s own strumming.
Thunder in the soul,
pressure in the hollow bone.

Then the rip and fold of wing,
a seam in the sky torn wide.
He, peregrine, enters cloud,
becomes the storm he chased.

No longer bird, but question,
the wind’s own wonder made flesh
air itself,
at last learning to ask.

Written for Writers’ Digest Poem-a-Day Challenge. Poems/prose and some images are ©Misky 2006-2025.