Yesterday’s Obstructed Cloud

correspondence or balance,
the ashtray is delicate with dust,
combustible like a favored saint,
one can see the day coming –
there is an indication that’s clear

exhuming, digging out, ploughing
long distracted, an agitated testimony,
good health is note of pasture honor
you will never trap or see words of lungs,
natural agents, too dismissive of light

do not look back, packing, scaling
the wilderness stains of August stints,
“is it over,” we have not the distance
to know if rapidity will distract thought,
imagination coiled like a pleasing scent

pillars allowing disabled surface standing,
sober and hungry, and close to heaven,
there is no deification like the grouping
hole of yesterday’s obstructed cloud,
light and lonely, pummeled and proud