The Cloud


By Phil Scovell



I wish I was a cloud so high, a flock of birds rise to fly,

Over mountains peaks, land and sea, soaring to destiny.

Air so light with substance be, Silent ship sailing free,

Skies above so deep and blue, It couldn't be with effort do.

Changing shapes so differently, Never knowing what to be,

Floating so naturally, rain to fall they want to be.

Refreshment, cleanse the plain, renew the land completely gain,

Crops to grow and harvest be, thank the clouds eternally.

Made by God to sore so free, by His Word they were to be,

All the years they've come and gone, always present never wrong.

Even in the darkest night, silently they float aflight,

Change they will from time to time, if but a bell they would try to chime.

Always look to see their shape, Up we always look to see their state,

Never on the ground to be, but flying high infinity.

One of God's cloud, please make me be,

Flight so high, nearer God I want to be.