Paula Schulz

 Alto cumulus   
                                                                         
 Erratic, bumpy, wave point ripples,
 rank upon rank of gnarled  liquid
  
 that barely holds together.  And it's span--
 Praise it!  Praise for the gap, 
  
 the gape, the gate torn off leaving variegated sky-ways
 open to the world.  Rough praise 
  
 for this ethereal architecture of reaching-- 
 This cloud mass, preaching 
  
 praise for what is not smoothed over, but raw,
 majestic in its shantung slub.  Praise the maw,   
  
 praise the dog’s teeth, (white, worn to a nub) 
 the hand’s span in endless covet--
  
 arthritic fingers reaching across the expanse. 
 Praise the light and the dark in endless dance.
  
 Honthorst knew how illumination of the shadowy 
 world set the stage forepiphany--
  
 as when a glow, not coming from above, nor yet
 either side, emanates from deep in the baby’s bed
  
 of a manger and crashes through my
 grate of ribs to settle as ruby, tiny miner’s 
                                                                                     
 lantern.  To wrestle the darkness 
 is always like that:  slow progress,                             
  
 till sparks widen to halos.  Chiaroscuro
 chalked on blue:  altoculumus--ridged bone and holes
  
 where deep in me      some wild iris 
 bays triumph through darkness.
   
Copyright 2021 by Paula Schulz

Writer’s Statement

I chose two poems I had written–one rhymed, the other not, and an online article on clouds, because I find them endlessly interesting.  From the poems and article I selected bits I thought might go together.  I had far too much material, so I limited the cloud article to one entry:  altoculumus clouds.  The rest was just working for cohesion and playing with language.

Works used
https://scijinks.gov/clouds/
Unbridged
After Gerard Manley Hopkins
Chiaroscuro 

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