Cloud. A poem by Glen Wilson

I’ve watched it for hours,
the edge of it spreads,
darkens the sky
so all conversation
is infected by it,
it threatens rain
so we wait only
for the drops.

No jet trails underscore
the expanse, the past
coughs, the future gasps
and the present is
a held breath. The sun
is just behind that cloud
it will be a breeze
that moves it.


Glen Wilson is a writer from Portadown, he has won the Seamus Heaney Award for New Writing in 2017, the Jonathan Swift Creative writing award in 2018 and the Trim poetry competition in 2019. He has written numerous poems including work for the Poetry Jukebox and the Irish Football Association. His collection An Experience on the Tongue is available from Doire Press @glenhswilson

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