The Visitor

There is a cloud in my yard.

I watched it being born far away over the mountain tops, just a wisp at first, a breath of life born from the old ones who have been here since time began.

It comes from good stock, from those first primeval waters collected over molten rock and chaos in the beginning of our universe. A creature without shape, or size, enormous beyond belief on one occasion and hidden deep within a drop of water on another.

A shape shifter of massive proportions, it slithers down over the rivers and, on frosty days, freezes the plants upon their hoar frost stems. Its regal elders rise into the air on command from the Sun, colossal royalty resplendent in their billowy white robes and soft fluffy beards. Terrifying when called upon to carry the storms across the land with forks of lightning and roaring voices richer than the deepest musical instrument.

There is a cloud in my yard. Not grand, nor frightening, just a small cloud lying on the grass, climbing up over the edge of the ridge and creeping towards my door. I think I'll open the windows and invite it in, watch its tiny tendrils investigate my home.

I feel its dampness wrap around me and I shiver at the strangeness of it. Never before have I had tea with a cloud. It dips invisible fingers into my cup, licks the brownie in my hand until it is soft and melty. Then it creeps on into the kitchen and around to the music room. I almost expect to hear ethereal music wafting out from under those delicate appendages caressing my dulcimer, but there is no sound at all, only the silence, the sound of eternal wisdom that accompanies those things that are forever.

I go to sleep, sheets clammy with the strange bedfellow who is here tonight. Chauncey and I crawl under the sheets and cuddle together in the middle of the bed, knowing that tomorrow, when we wake up, it will be gone. Back into the mists of time and mythology, into the place of stories and conjecture, leaving behind only the memories of our evening with an archetype who came to life.