Clouds
“The
sky is that beautiful old parchment in which the sun and the moon
keep their diary.” Alfred Kreymborg
In
the usual place of sunrise, the clouds, gray and solid, are rushing
by as though they have a train to catch. Wind is not blowing where I
sit, but obviously, it is up there. I caught the setting of the
harvest moon this morning while taking out the recycling. Supposedly,
it is the last of the super moons we'll see for some time. All the
signs point to cooler weather, changing seasons. Autumn is upon us.
I
wonder whether you commune with clouds. Henry David Thoreau did. He
wrote, “You must not blame me if I do talk to clouds.” Today,
they're moving too quickly for conversation. When I was young, I
spent many plane flights, straining forward in the seat to watch the
clouds down below. I thought they must be the sight seen by God all
the time. Their glowing radiance felt like prayer. And, as all
children do, I spent many an afternoon lying in the grass, watching
clouds shape themselves into recognizable objects. I sometimes
wondered whether they did that to play with the children down below.
I
found a wonderful quote by Richard Bach, no doubt from Jonathan
Livingston Seagull; “A cloud does not know why it
moves in such a direction and at such speed...It feels an
impulsion...this is the place to go now. But the sky knows the
reasons and the patterns behind all the clouds, and you will know,
too, when you lift yourself high enough to see beyond the
horizon.” Amen to that.
I
hope you will notice the clouds where you are today. They may have
something important to tell you.
In
the Spirit,
Jane
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