Thursday Poetry: So Many Faces

So many faces

In the clouds.

Am I lonely,

Cross-wired

Or, helplessly enslaved

By people once known?

I look up

And she’s there

At 10,000 feet

And all I can say

Is hello,

I have things to do

Until the crack of thunder

Brings me to a church

Where I once

Looked up

Before I had things

To do.