I’ve spent my life watching clouds
The gods are near
I read their messages
At first no one believed
I was not a seer
Nor a son of priests
Only trained by flocks of sheep
Yet the gods selected me
I do their work
When I saw grey dust on ring shaped clouds
I knew that soon the tempests would come
Small rose dots on fleecy mists
Meant a fine summer harvest
The faint pealing hint of gold
Singeing the center of a soft pale haze
Heralded a new reign
My village forced our contest
I foresaw a storm in three days
The local priests the fairest of weather
That inundation proved my foundation
Not one capital seer could stomach
A short, ignorant, stupid shepherd
Yet when I came to the throne on that basalt day
The inkiest morn after a month of darkness
Left my petition and saw the sun
Burst forth like a torch
Some came to believe
Last year I was summoned
Watched the gods do their work
The silver wire to draw out mists
Golden cables that meld sunsets
Fires of sun coiled to gossamer cloud
Foretelling the last snows of spring
The gods showed me and blessed me
Said my time was soon
Once I could read the clouds and know
When our enemies would rush to war
How many children would survive the drought
Now the people no longer believe
None of the young ask to learn clouds
I can only touch the surface of the great ice around us
Yet I feel the gods’ anger and loneliness
Without our faith they cannot survive
I fear they will prove furious ghosts
Melt and freeze the wide good Earth
Shift the world and leave us as
We leave them
Cold and unloved
Will any of you look to the clouds?
If you listen they will tell you
What you need to see
What we must do now