I saw a cloud shaped like an angel,
Or maybe it was more like an eagle,
While driving between Opelika and Columbus one morning.
I hoped it was an eagle,
Swooping down, claws opened,
About to catch a trout from somewhere beyond the rooftops.
I hoped it was an eagle
While I watched it fading...fading...fading away.
I hoped it was an eagle and not an angel;
When angels fall to earth,
They don't get back up.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem