Sean Bentley of Eugene, Oregon, recently discovered the Cloud Appreciation Society after reading the book RAIN by Cynthia Barnet. He wrote this poem in 2023 after reading THE INVENTION OF CLOUDS by Michael Hamblyn, the biography of Luke Howard.

Image: by Ronna Friend of distant storm clouds developing near Eugene, Oregon

Nimbus

Twenty-twenty-three. Not enough Spring yet,
despite the calendar, although the proverb
holds, and so drenched in gray
we await May’s radiant flowers.

April showers fell here anyway, back before
anyone had a name for this bleak veil,
a taxonomy or rationale, around the time
the luminous Lewis and Clark slogged their way

cross-country to what would be Oregon
―naming the glorious things they’d found:
Large-Flowered Clammy Weed,
Lady’s Slipper, Beargrass, Elkhorn,

Pronghorn, Bighorn, Bobcat.
Lewis’s Woodpecker. Clark’s
Nutcracker nagging from the branch
of Western Redcedar dripping on his tent.

Clark bitched at Clatsop, Pacific camp, week
after week after week of downpour, gloom and cold.
The “drisly… repeeted rain” fell, he wrote,
simply from a “verry lively, black Cloud.”

Just a cloud.
Unaware that Cirrus, Cumulus, and Stratus
had emerged, unveiled to English societies
by Luke Howard, Amateur Meteorologist.

Not far, I am, from where Clark was.
Out the window rain runs and drips
from cultivated Bamboo and Fan Palm.
Not far, but two centuries and more

from where it poured and poured
from the same vast Nimbostratus
that halos my sky, which I now name
Shivergiver, Drizzledrop, Dimdamper.

© Sean Bentley

1: A luminous vapor, cloud, or atmosphere about a god or goddess when on earth;
a cloud or atmosphere (as of romance) about a person or thing.
2: A rain cloud.
– Merriam-Webster Dictionary

“ …we see the lower Clouds spread themselves, till they unite in all points and form
one uniform Sheet. The rain then commences….”
– Luke Howard, “Of the Nimbus,” Essay on the Modifications of Clouds, 1803

“From the 4th of November 1805 to the 25th of March 1806, there were not
more than twelve days in which it did not rain, and of these [only] six were clear.”
– Patrick Gass, Corps of Discovery 1806

Carole Chandler recently composed these Cloud Haiku whilst out enjoying Mother Nature’s benevolent offerings

Sherwin Berger, member 18,239, sent us his latest cloud inspired poem entitled “Nature’s Magicians”.

Cindy Medina of Las Cruces, New Mexico wrote explaining that it has been sunshine for 1 1/2 months and she misses the clouds, rain, and snow. Regardless of this, she sent us these cloud haiku.

Guo Wei, Member 57,319, sent us a poem that he wrote after seeing dozens of large horseshoe vortex formations develop one after the other over Xiamen, China.  He has kindly translated it into English for us and sent a photograph he took of the sky that day.

Miracle

• An Unbelievable Afternoon of Seeing over a Dozen Big Horseshoe Vortex Clouds one after another

When the sky’s inspiration explodes on a windy afternoon,
The sparse shadows of things stretch across the serene pedestrian street,
Still in my white coat, many years,
Which has been nurturing a tiny flame within my heart.

The spectacle of thousands of horses galloping suddenly unfolds,
Accompanied by the background music of the childhood version of the Journey to the West,
Which rushes out from an unknown old shop.

It seems like an invisible vortex hidden in the grey background, stirring,
And spitting out naughty children like smoke rings,
As if the desire – the source of life’s drive?
Has materialized with nothing into a masterpiece.
The children line up and vault over the huge tree in the middle of the street one after another.

Last night I shouldn’t have lost my temper,
Argued with you about whether a colander can scoop water to wash your hair.
“There really are miracles.”
I wish to watch them with you now, my daughter,
How lovely is the world in your eyes?

I stand like a white fool, rooted to the spot,
Repeatedly checking everything that slipped away during each sleepy afternoon,
Afraid that the supposed awake is a dream,
Afraid that photos will disappear like horseshoe vortex clouds, dancing and leaving no trace,
Until the curtain falls, the sky is empty,
No one has looked through the ecstasy within my coat,
Like an invisible man, transparently crying, stirring,
The cries of the traders around that has been passed from mouth to mouth for centuries.
The waterfall of Dichondra shakes, hooves become lighter, grey-grey hue remains.

© Guo Wei 2024

Kathleen Janick, member 49,856, recently wrote this poem inspired by fog on the coast of Maine, USA

Helen Hudson, Member 51,777 lives Australia and has a fabulous view of the sky from her apartment.   She sent her cloud inspired poem and told us she looks forward eagerly to receiving our Cloud-a-Day emails.  We’ve chosen an image of a rainbow amidst the storm, spotted over Redland Bay, Queensland, Australia   © Aileen Flynn to accompany Helen’s poem.

Look up, Look up

Look up, look up.
Every moment brings change.
Clouds ever there, always moving
Reminding us life’s ephemeral.

Some bring gusto, tower after tower,
Others wisp over the sky.
Maybe rain is the promise.
But others hint and fly away.
Even cloudless, never empty
Constantly open.

Look up, look up
Passing variations – grey and white.
Icy with frozen crystals
Sun reflections turn into
Vermillion, violet, coral
Dipping, diving, dancing
According to air pressure
And temperature complexities.

Look up, look up
Night and day
Our heads in the clouds
Cannot be missed
While caught in life’s toils
Look up, look up, be glad …

© Helen Hudson

Anette Prehn, Member 63,419, appreciates the sky from her home in Denmark.  This poem was translated for her by Heidi Flegal, who suggested she send it to us.  It was used as lyrics, set to music by Rasmus Skov Borring in 2019.  Image:  Altocumulus with virga over Denmark © Soren Hauge

Like Shifting Clouds on High

A cloudscape ever-changing,
an endless voyage in the sky:
travellers re-arranging
their shapes as they go by.
In splendid, silent swirls they show
that wonders come and wonders go.
They offer up a lesson,
this whimsical procession
of shifting clouds on high.

As children we lay gazing
at fairy tales in shades of white.
In dappled sunlight lazing
we felt profound delight.
To see it through a childʼs bright eyes
– this big parade of small goodbyes –
recalls whatʼs lost, yet seeing
brings back the joy of being
with shifting clouds on high.

The boundless white collective
that travels on the windy tide
gives us a new perspective,
and mirrors whatʼs inside.
From Natureʼs wisdom take your cue.
She says: “Find that courageous you!
Your heart from joy and sorrow
can shape a new tomorrow
like shifting clouds on high.”

By Anette Prehn, Member 63,419 (© 2019)

Bonnie Boothroyd was driving and when she came over the crest of a hill and before her was a fascinating skyscape which inspired this poem.  We’ve paired it with an image from our gallery of Cumulonimbus over Bosse, Belgium © Sunwalker

Layers

The sky overhead hangs low,   leaden

threatening my mood

In the distance though,  a wide clear patch of fading blue

And off near the horizon

identically long and narrow

ephemeral            wingless            airships            hover

Yet another layer beyond

framed by the darkening springtime sky 

Cumulonimbus

explode to altitudes so

high they capture the glow 

of a sun       already set

and I wonder,   for folks

beneath those sun swelled clouds

does the sky hang

dark and low?

                                                b mackenzie boothroyd

Chuck Metcalfe, Member 61,468, sent us a poem he wrote in November 2023 and a photograph he took at his camp in Stockton, New York, that inspired it.

Ladder to the Clouds

If I could build a ladder to the clouds, we could climb so high into the sky.
We could frolic and play, and stay all day, just the two of us;
while we jump and bounce from Stratus to Cumulus.
We might sing and dance on Altostratus; or perchance ride the mares’ tails of Cirrus Uncinus .
Amongst the Cirrus we would search freely in, until we find a parhelion; petting that sundog we could do, and maybe see its halo too.
Nimbostratus would not ruin our day, if above the rain we were able to stay.
Even Cumulonimbus with its flashy show would look different from above you know.
We would have our own park without the crowds, if I could build a ladder to the clouds.

© 11/17/2023 Chuck Metcalfe

Keshet Amalia Wistenberg recently sent us this poem to share with the CAS community. We’ve paired it with an image from our Photo Gallery by Ernesto Astiazaran of a joyful cirrus face over Tucson, Arizona, US.

Vantage Point

Fribbling, trotting,
In circles abounding,
Our smidgens of forms
So dear, yet so far.

We click and we squabble,
Enwrangled, surrounding,
By godlies, by froundies,
By tresses of star.

They drift and they float
And they sweep up the foundlings,
Who live in their castles,
Their dreamy memoir.

They follow, they peer at
We short-sighting groundlings,
And ‘member it all
In their mountains on par.

When angry, we quarrel,
With teeth, steam abounding,
When they do, they weep,
As they know what we are.

We’re boorish, we’re legged,
We’re scraggle-pip-thounding,
We’re dirty and little
and thoughtless, wind scar.

They weep and they roar,
Erupt, all propounding,
They do so as schedule
Makes bare who they bar.

For us, we’re the peasants,
sca-venging, sca-rounging,
And them all the king, and the chief
And the tsar.

We imagine a vastly
Built ever so rounding,
For us in the center,
The jam in the jar.

‘Truly?’ ‘Tis factin?’
We shriek, throbbing, pounding,
For deep’st we know’st
Our knowings off par.

The clouds, are our windows,
From here to the bounding,
Old boundary of here
To the great world their from,

The clouds are our windows,
From here to the bounding,
Old boundary of here
To the great world to come.

© Keshet Amalia Wistenberg

Lorelei O’Connor of Beaverton, Oregon has sent us her poem for the white clouds.

Petrina Anthony sent us this poem from her home in Malaysia

Writer and artist, Lorelei O’Connor sent us this moving poem…

Melanie McDowell, Member 58,909 thoroughly enjoys her membership of the Cloud Appreciation Society.  She told us “I am a poet and a lot of my poetry takes inspiration from the ever changing West of Ireland skies.  I also love reading others’ poetry, both contemporary and classic.  During Covid, I began the practice of choosing a word and poem for each day so I have built up a large bank of poetry, a lot of it sky inspired”.   We’ve paired her poem with an image by Tom Jenner, “A fair weather cloud day over Valentia Island in the south west of Ireland”

Home Turf
Sky thick as cream.
Ski slope clouds
lean into mountains.
Whitethorn bends arms
laden with blossom.
Grass banks quiver green.
Algaed mountain pass
through clods of cloud.
Rain reassures its patter.
Tarmacadam river
sheens purple.
Fuschia bells just
starting to ring out.
Mall Go Slow.
Rough as turf,
home.

© Melanie McDowell

David Oscarson, supporting member 40614 sent us this poem he recently composed. It centres around falling snow and encroaching clouds that cover the mountains.

Sherman Schapiro, Member 56,083, sent this short poem inspired by our Halloween Cloud-a-Day – an Altocumulus ‘supercilium’, a cloud term yet to be recognised as an official one, spotted haunting the sky over San Anselmo, California, US by Lee FitzGerald (Member 50,400).

Heavenly “Boo!”

Eerie skies above,
like tentacles descending.
Clouds for Hallowe’en.

© Sherman Schapiro

Lucia Wilson was delighted to see the Cloud Appreciation Society featured on BBC Breakfast recently with an interview with Gavin Pretor-Pinney. It reminded her of this poem that she wrote over 10 years ago as she was reflecting on how often people in London move around the city without looking up.

Have You Seen the Sky Today

Alarm clock
Bathroom mirror
Dodgy reflection
Breakfast TV
Chirpy presenters
Caffeine injection
Underground warriors battle for seats
Struggle for dominance
Office door
Computer switch-on
Lights and…

.. ACTION!

Email, voicemail,
males and females
Greetings, meetings,
decisions, decisions
Outcome, plans and human factors
Negotiation, confrontation, solutions and laughter.

Some flirty lies, as time flies, the day nearly over
The players bow to mute applause,
Retreat commences
Journey reversed, routine well-rehearsed
with occasional abstentions

Alarm set
eyes close as sleep lays prey
But here’s a thought before you dream

Have you seen the sky today?

by Lucia Wilson / www.luciawilson.co.uk

Image Credit: Adrian Wakefield, Altocumulus stratiformis undulatus, also known as a “mackerel sky”, spotted over West London, England

Sheryl Oder sent us this poem based on pictures of clouds that she’s taken.  She told us that the image above reflects the last line.

God’s Fluffy Artwork

Clouds are God’s craftsmanship in the sky.

At times I see

wispy white threads in the blue sky,
cotton balls scattered everywhere,
blue holes punched in the white clouds,
a UFO-like shape,
a white fog blanket covering the mountains,
and a mixture of light and dark puffy mountains.

What do you see?

© Sheryl Oder

Minnie Biggs, Member 4,330, recently sent her poem about the skies over Bhutan, which is situated on the Himalayas’ eastern edge. We’ve accompanied it with an image from Michael Ellis “Aladdin’s lamp spotted over Bhutan, South Asia“

Go to Bhutan

Cloud heaven
we are looking at the clouds in the distance
we are below the clouds
we are in the middle of the clouds
We are above the clouds,
Looking at more clouds
in the clouds is different
Than above or below
Wet damp not rain wet
And the mountains
That meet the clouds
Embrace the clouds
Are embraced by the clouds
Intermingle with the clouds
seldom one without the other
In Bhutan
Clouds
Heaven

© Minnie Biggs