Creative Practice Day 43

Part one
  If I could paint
and frankly that's out of the question
I would paint three things exclusively

  I would pain the clouds
rich and rising high in the summer sky,
mountains of white pillowing outwards
in grand spires, temples, and citadels
of the tiniest driplets of water
given life and released from the sea's prison

  The storm-skies
rife with ripping winds
clouds as dark as axe blades
as wet as stones
gathering in mystery

  a secret society of infinite dim days and petrichor
and the stretched thin phyllo streams
so high in the atmosphere
they're barely there
but hang just so in the freezing winter
an icicle the size of a skyscraper dispersed
over miles and miles of sky
glinting in perihelion

  that I could paint these holy vessels
for God rest His presence in clouds
more than once before
I would paint evermore