I can see the Bible stories 
   writ in these skies
   as I pass through
   ancient parts.

Slant shafts of light spill
   through the clouds,
   angling toward some 
   blessed soul.

I can see distant clouds --
   fringed in curls --
   as if painted upon
   a cathedral ceiling. 

Clouds that display the depth
   of an artist's skill and
   eye for perspective,
   but not true depth.
   (They seem too distant for that;
      they're too real to be real.)

And I look up again out of the window
   and am blinded by light
   that has pierced thick clouds,
   and I wonder whether anyone is
   seeing this light shaft bless me.