Kathy’s niece took these pictures of boomers the other night west of Edmonton. Kathy and I talked about what we saw in the clouds. There is a lot in there and yesterday, as I walked, I understood clouds meaning something different during different seasons of life.
The spring of childhood,
Clouds were homes
Where
My imagined friends
Came to life
Nursery rhymes, fairy tale, cartoons
People lived there.
A voice called: “Hurry home before it rains.”
Spring met summer
Romance arrived
A single rain drop touched us
We scrambled
Holding hands
We discovered shelter
In each other
And laughed: “Let it rain.”
The dog days of summer arrived
I looked up
Storm clouds overhead
Ominous
Please, I need to finish the lawn
Or there goes the BBQ tonight
I hear my voice: “Hurry home before it rains; so much to do.”
In autumn
A safe distance
We view
But, don’t hurry
Clouds
Real places in our imagination
Together, we share
God’s chair, a child’s face, google eyes
It may rain tonight
I hear my voice: “I am here again.”
ivonprefontaine
Teacher as Transformer 