Late August Clouds

27 Aug

Right now I’m enjoying the fruits of late summer. Tomatoes are best in August. On my way home I passed by this strange tree with bright orange berries just splayed out like Christmas gone backwards. Crabapples so heavy that the trees are bending down. So lucky to be away from the drought. Cracked land, cows with bony hips, sad farmers. It’s a thing that comes now and then, but it sure is unpleasant. Lucky we don’t live in hardscrabble times where a lost crop could mean people starving.
Time, tide, and television wait for no man. Lovely bamboo hedge right across my window, a grand line of trees, standing stiff like soldiers at attention. Growing like a song from the ground up. Grabbing for the sky.
A sense of direction. Aren’t there times in life where we’re lunging forward, and others where we are still. Years that follow one another as orderly as an accountants books? I remember the old style accounting books with the green covers. Big and heavy. Yellow pages.
I wanted to fill each line up with something, not math, but a real something. Like descriptions of beetles, or the ways wind can feel, or different flavors, or something.
Clouds, of course they are ships, that’s too simple to be stated. Sometimes fleets roll by on their round hulls, going from whoknowswhere to whoknowswhere, and as they develop, grow, drop water, shrink, develop again, I wonder what it would be like to follow a cloud, wonder how long it takes to drain dry. Would we see them shrink, or would they melt away like hard candy, imperceptible until they are gone?

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