Cloud Spotting

Some days,
I sit and I look at the clouds
I watch them move
I watch them dance around the sun like “expressionists”
Without rhythm and without a plan, yet still so breathtakingly beautiful
I watch them move like weeds in the wind, Left and then right
I watch them move like squirrels, there for a second
A blink, a glance away and they’ve moved.
Gone.

Some days the clouds don’t have a dance
They’re just still
And they make the air stiff
They don’t move and the sun doesn’t shine
They don’t dance, maybe they’re at peace with everything around them
Maybe they’re at home at that moment.
I watch them when this happens
Praying and hoping for a break
For some sun
For some rain
Anything but nothing

Some days the clouds dance a different dance
A sad dance
An angry dance
The dance of a lover scorned
Heavy, big, frustrated steps
Clumsy dance moves
And it seems as though the clouds realize how silly they look
And so they break down
They weep, they cry and drench me and I watch cause I have nothing to do

Some days the clouds don’t show up
Those are apparently the ‘beautiful’ days
They don’t seem so beautiful though
There is no dancing
There is no one to dance
There is no rain
There is no protection from the sun
There is just me
Watching, waiting for the clouds cause I have nothing to do

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