The Magic of the Clouds

Have you ever been surprised by early morning fog? The clouds that silently lower themselves, white and soft and gentle, their stillness quiet as the mist crouches and sits without a stir of breath. The wind has allowed them to settle, its absence giving them power.

Pinpoints of moisture probe the earth and release a scent of richness beyond description that emanates from the surface and wafts into the whiteness, gliding slowly, climbing gently, and delighting all in its' path.  The cloud holds its breath, while this birth of sensations slowly erupts and sails across the landscape, hidden and blanketed in filmy white.

I hold my breath, too, and listen, my footfalls loud, my own breath hushed, while I heed the gravid silence.  I know the birds are listening, too, their collective songs quiet for the moment. And when I do take a breath, the delicious heavy scents surrounding me permeate my body and my mind, sending pleasure directly into my soul and lifting me into the magic of the cloud.

Then suddenly, a breeze touches my hair and before long, the mist has disappeared, its magic dissipated.  When I look up at the clouds as they sail in their kingdom above, I know the secrets they hold, the enchantment they hide and I remember well the moments I once shared with them.

©2013 Linda Gatewood