Clouds don’t just dissipate; they return to the spot they were formed, like green turtles that twiddle on to the shore to lay their eggs. Cloud watchers would know better. Perhaps, it’s the hyper imaginative mind that is connecting those measured cumulous fluffs and stray cirrus whiffs to patterns seen at another time. Their unhurried pace across the skyline…the methodical dissipation, evokes a time-warped mood.
On a blue sky day they are whipping up resources to flag their fluffs from yonder; pushing stray whiffs to create masterful blurbs across the sky canvas.
These clouds, they are such conversationalists; they keep whispering sweet everythings into the dawn sky. They nudge you to shed your inhibitions and gaze right at them, with the neck muscles crimped to capture the magical panorama.
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My window looks out into the open sky with a dramatic background of rugged mountainscape and a foreground of unpretentious residential buildings that appear almost diminutive in comparison to the vast skyline. They frame the foothills, appearing as if they have been pinned together – the buildings, the bare mountains and the skyline.
The metallic tones of the craggy low mountains, with some sharp and dented peaks held up by unperturbedly spreading rocky saddle, keep reassuring the clouds floating by. They provide a feel of permanence to the at times fleeting cirrus clouds; they stand as silent sentinels, contrasting perfectly with the white of the buildings that have been mellowed further by the hidden parking lot.
While noontimes are bereft of cloud notes left by migrating breeze, the mornings and dusk-times are filled with volumes of romantic interludes.
These clouds…they beckon you to pause; they lure you with their enigmatic powers to hold you in a trance. There is a moment of divinity there. Right there when you stop in your track, look at the horizon and stay mesmerised for a minute – for an eternity.
These clouds…they tell you life is all about stopping to caress nature; stoke it with our senses and surrender to the feeling of abandonment they inspire
The next time you see a winter cloud waving at you from your skyline, send your salutations across to acknowledge your joy at the spectacle.
