Sky Goddess

In the meadow we rush by

Of white and gray-light clouds

Bits of them are drifting

Unless it's only us that's moving..

Like sparse overhands of aerial vines

Clouds dangle softly

And in the light of morning's high sun

The sky's goddess rises

A duo of ram's horns atop her head curve out and back again

Those wings she has- of silver-lined clouds

Have feathers of the finest cumulus silk

Empowering and drawing like breath, small drops of awe

She stands, like a wonderful statue

A paw bent, a hand raised

And her head- it's tilted to the sky