Cloud Down!

Cloud down!

A common enough thought in the Smokey Mountains where clouds fall down upon the earth in mutinous multitudes. Forsaking the trade winds and the gulf winds and everything else to cling close to the earth's sweet breasts.

Today this damp white beast, that lies sodden over trees, green with mold, and land, ripe with vines, wraps itself around me like some kindred spirit so I won’t feel so alone.

Another creature transported to a strange and foreign land, out of time, out of place, out of sync in a world that seems to cater to the cadence and conformity of others so much more easily.

Today the truth is that I wish I could crawl inside your head and look at me from the inside out, to know what it is like to fall into a groove and slide through the world like a marble slick and polished and ready to roll.

But I am a cloud down. And I continue to rise at will and sleep at last, to play music that helps me slide from time to time, and write thoughts that are all my own in a world filled with those to whom different is often anathema.

Angell down!