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| Clouds Over Angel's Landing, Grand Canyon |
A prime mover for me? Any opportunity to be outside. The other day, I was surprised by a sky that made me come inside and write...
Streaky clouds stretch thinly overhead, like a tattered veil
of ancient white linen.
Nothing, not a thing about them is permanent.
They constantly shift into spaces once held by baby blue as
if they had wings to sway and fly away.
For me, a mesmerizing comfort...
to watch them glide,
to know they are but white water, untouchable, silent vapor, body surfing on distant wind waves.
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| More Clouds |
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And more...clouds...never once the same, ethereal, like we are
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