Pillar of Cloud
Brandon Cook
I must remember that this morning, as I stepped outside into a sky stormed gray and cold—
The cobalt clouds whipped like ocean spray and
The machines having blared their warnings of high wind—
That for a moment, beyond the lowest terrace of gray, in a momentary aperture
Was a spray of sun on some great cumulonimbus—
A great galleon of cloud, rising like the Himalayas, resplendent in orange and tinged in gold like a prayer shawl
Hanging for one bright moment, pendant over the peril
By that light, birds could find their way home, alight above the storm,
And the sprawling pinnacles promised peace, despite the rending over the earth below
Reminding me of that pillar of fire that must burn within us, too,
No matter the storm astride us