Poetry by Richard Stevenson
Wait a minute! What if the clouds
could support life? No shortage
of water up there! Nice fluffy outerwear . . .
You can’t see ‘em cos you ain’t lookin’!
I tell you they’re not sky dragons –
visions that could spawn a myth or two –
but sky jellyfish. They say pwdre ser –
Welsh for rot from the stars – drops everywhere.
Gelatinous remains. Drop to earth, evaporate
before you can collect the goop
from your tree branches or lawn.
Half invisible, not of this world . . .
I tell you: atmospheric beasts exist!
Flying rods aren’t biochemical blemishes.
They’re single-celled creatures eighteen feet long!
You gotta change your frame of reference!
These creatures might not be carbon-based;
they may not be completely material.
Parts of them, their whole bodies can
shape-shift like the clouds themselves.
They’re in their element in a sea above us.
Editor’s Note: Richard has been nominated for the Rhysling Award by this publishing house. Richard’s Wikipedia.