Day 166: Cloudy

The middle of the day seems a little more nostalgic when it is cloudy outside. And I am pushed out to the memories of making paper boats that sail on streams and puddles and somehow just lead their way. I was fascinated with water since I was a kid and as a grown up as I study hydrology, and ever more so often more fascinated by the clouds that fill the skies. That which may cause a day to be dull seem like thick curtains before a sure sunrise and those who have missed the lights and sounds of such a show, I wish you find more cloudy skies.

Cloudy
As it pours outside, my window pane
It is reminiscent of the wet breeze, reminders of rain
I look at the midday, and feel cloudy
When all in hidden to the open eyes & my days are on retreat

Cloudy still the skies outside, and yet my pages get wet
As we write about the rain, that has not happened yet
We will draw out our raincoats, to fight it off somehow
And take shelter , when it is needed for now.

Something about the skies, are warm reminders of home
When you sit with everything and in the quiet you don't feel alone
Till the story writers of a wet summer day, finds its place
Till there is more to puddles that you avoid, footsteps you can
                                                                             no longer trace

The rain may wash a lot away, but I follow where it may trail
The washes and splashes and the memories of a rainy day
For now I write not to that which may pass, or to consequences still
Cloudy outside and in memories, my words write & my mind fills.