it seems so obvious all the time that clouds are really messages sent from people who know better. they can forecast the future before we arrive, draw our likely map routes with their wisps, calculate the possibilities of our stupidity. remember the pot holes? that cumulus tried to warn us by turning itself into a dragon. you thought it was a dog. up ahead storm clouds make funny faces, telling us it’s okay to go on. the ditch rises to meet the horizon and the front turn signal. i could have told you we’d end up with dahlias in the windshield. the clouds form balloon animals of their younger selves and squeal their air out. exasperation sounds like thunder splitting its head against the oaks.
Image taken of a graffitied redwood.
Words written at Jewel Box.
Ears On Bat for Lashes
Time Taken five or so minutes.
Brain On going to see Brave in a few hours!!