Do you ever play Cloud Games? When you look into a cloud-filled sky and imagine you see a face or a shoe or a dog? The other day, as the weather was changing, I saw a cloud that looked like a spaceship coming in for a landing. (Come on, work with me here.) Clouds, if you let them, can stir the imagination.
Maybe you see a sky full of big, billowy cumulus clouds, the kind you’d love to jump in, bounce around on, fall through forever.
It might be a sky scattered with wispy cirrus clouds, the ones that look like feathers or gauze. The kind you could fly away on.
Perhaps you see a sky heavy with rain-laden nimbus clouds, dark and scary looking. They may make you apprehensive. Or run for cover.
Maybe the clouds hang so low you find yourself in eerie, mysterious fog, Sherlock Holmes one step behind you. Or Jack the Ripper.
Clouds are fun, inspirational, miraculous. They have captivated poets, writers, artists, songwriters, playwrights, scientists …
The fog comes
on little cat feet.
It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.
Hamlet: Do you see yonder cloud that’s almost in shape of a camel?
Polonius: By the mass, and ’tis like a camel, indeed.
Hamlet: Methinks it is like a weasel.
Polonius: It is backed like a weasel.
Hamlet: Or like a whale?
Polonius: Very like a whale.
Clouds can fill me with awe or take my breath away. They can light my emotions. At times, as I walk beneath their artwork, they help me think.
I may like clouds for another reason. Could it be they just let the child in me come out and play?