Astrologer of Clouds
sometimes through glass,
or maybe they have forgotten
about the actual sky and instead
read horoscopes and calculate birth charts.
I am an astrologer of clouds
noting the metaphors that float
on ordinary days
offering messages about my internal
reality and my most tangible life.
Homo sapiens lives under clouds
and that is his essential
and defining trait,
a man under a cloud that
speaks to him in metaphors.
It’s all projection, in your mind,
irrelevant, they say, not wanting to admit
to the obvious, the cloud overhead that
looks like something else.
Clouds are messages in the sky,
just what an astrologer wants.
But maybe clouds are too humble,
too close and ordinary,
lacking the mystery of a distant planet,
to be taken seriously as bearers of omens.
After all, at the birth of Christ it was a star
and not a cloud that signaled the place.
Maybe a cloud is not bright enough,
suggesting foggy awareness
rather than enlightenment.
Nevertheless, I’m an astrologer of clouds,
reading the heavens’ messages as they
teletype across the sky on a windy day.