There’s no such thing as stagnant clouds.
If you look closely,
even on days when the wind is quiet,
you will see them moving across the fiery sky.
Creatures and the faces of the saints swirl within the collective mist, giving witness to our existence, until we too rise to join them.
We watch for a little while the teeming throngs below,
then are cast from culmulus’ warm embrace to fall upon upturned visages as annointing rain.