Kit Kelen’s ‘sometimes’

from wake to play poems in first philosophy

sometimes a mountain
will have its one little cloud
grey as water falling
just there
neither here nor
high hover of all day hung
as if grazing
although at this height
the grass is gone
no matter

in another world

it’s a feather fallen
for windlick
wisp of weather
small

so thick sometimes
you won’t see through

like a little fleece you’d call in for dinner
lithe as the day is long

climb to it
and watch your footing

hang halo
with a length of word
and mouthful meaning

too much has been read in
all summer
soft as shadow

grass woven
in the years of wind

clouds cut hard here

shape straight lines
carve time from
the day to pass

there’s nothing in this world
fast as a mountain

see how it ran till
watch the moss bloom

there’s nothing so sound
as a cloud asleep

time simply
won’t pass here