You can’t imagine what I saw,
Some clouds that only God can draw
With pinks and reds and violet blue.
He painted with a heavenly hue.
Then from my mountainside retreat
I had a special viewing seat.
The distant clouds looked like a heart.
The hand of God was painting art.
The hues were changing reds like fire.
I watched the clouds still climbing higher.
I knew my faith was soaring too.
I can’t forget my mountain view.
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Roy E. Peterson is a writer and former U.S. military army intelligence officer who currently resides in Texas.
Very good, Mr. Peterson. And clearly a spectacular cloud formation. I’m glad to see that someone shares my thinking about clouds and has no doubts about attribution.
Thank you, Julian.
Really?! Are you sure about this? Or is it possible that we have simply been endowed by our Creator with imagination, through which we are able to confabulate anything we fancy? It’s a question for which I have no answer. Either way, it’s a damn good feature in this otherwise rather dull and distressing world. What you have seen in clouds I have seen in the nap of bath towels while sitting on the pot, but I have never thought of them as messages from God. But who knows? Both of us might be wrong. Let Heaven and Nature sing!
Sorry, C B., I lost a longer response to your question. But I think your concern is subjectivism. I’ll stick with my (admittedly sentimental) assertion, but will add this:
Don’t worry, I’m not one
To cry, “Ave Maria!”
At what a skillet’s done
To an innocent tortilla.
(As is often the case, my point of reference is obscure: there was a story, true or not, of someone’s seeing the face of the Virgin in a tortilla.)
I like the poem too and share the above sentiment.
The sky has become (since I began to notice) a
constant illustration of heavenly messages.
Thank you, jd!
Beautiful and such a vision of faith. Thank you.
Bless you, Rohini!
even as an american raised in the suburbs, looking over the author’s biography, i am schocked at how indoctrinated i’ve been against bible believing americans and how ignorant i am of this history. our biblical roots.
Understandable, Benjamin! Bless you!
Roy, your poem works like a small golden nugget that forever stands ready to make people feel happy with God and with themselves. Bless you!
That is special, Leo!
See! Even the sky’s bigger in Texas! Thanks for the ultimately ‘inward eye’ moment. Wordsworth would have enjoyed this.
Fantastic comment, Paul! Thank you! The clouds I saw were from Mount Lemmon, just north of Tucson, Arizona.
I appreciate the epiphany that unfolds in this poem, Roy, and I am sad to say that hearts rarely if ever appear in the sky here in Massachusetts.
I appreciate your accolade. The clouds I saw as hearts were from Mount Lemmon in Tucson, Arizona, at sunset.
That’s a very beautiful and uplifting poem, thank you so much!
I appreciate your kind words, Yael!
Oddly enough, Roy, having spent a lot of time in Tucson, I am quite familiar with Mt. Lemmon. I have walked up and down a number of the canyons in the Santa Catalinas, had encounters with numerous rattlesnakes, and thoroughly enjoyed the time I was privileged to spend there. Most of my time was spent in the foothills between Esperero and Bird Canyons. Much later I hiked up Sabino Canyon to some amazing water features, which are wet in the winter and spring but usually dry in the summer, except during the monsoon season in early summer.
For someone who has her head in the clouds most of the time, I appreciate the beauty and sentiment of your words. Your opening and closing couplets are lovely, and have me thinking of all the times I’ve reveled in God’s presence while gazing in wide-eyed amazement at the splendor of the skies. Thank you, Mr. Peterson.
Bless you Susan! I deeply appreciate your kind discerning comment!
For C.B. Anderson: I worked on my doctorate at the University of Arizona in Tucson from 1966-69. I returned there when I retired from 2004-2012. Mt. Lemmon (Yes, for the rest of the readers that is the correct spelling.) was often a welcome respite at any time of year with snow in winter and hikes in the spring through fall. I loved Sabino Canyon out past Tanque Verde.