Wednesday, July 16, 2008

Personal Cloud by Kat Magendie

I am home. I am in my own personal cloud. I look around at the fog come calling, out and around all the green that grows wildly on our mountain, and I have the most wonderful feeling of being completely hidden from the world. Up here on my mountain, with the foggy clouds around the log home a glowing cloak, and the wild green of plants, vines, shrubs, and trees, with the critters scurrying about for their breakfast, with the creek bubbling, with no car sounds, or people sounds, with all of that, I am alone. Sweetly alone.

I can't quite see the distant mountains through the thick white, but I know they are there. Those strong, ancient, cradling creatures. Some of the most ancient mountains in the world, but I have told you that before. I say it again because it awes me. I feel special saying that, when it is the mountains who are special instead of me.

To my great great grandmother, I would seem so white. But, I feel her call to me in the howls of the wolf. When the moon is up and shows me the way, I will run where it points me, and become lost in the mists. A good rain comes, and the trees seem as if they are crying. I breathe in clean, wet, new air.

I am alone. The night descends. The dark covers me where once the clouds were. The stars are hidden, and my moon stays away. The trees still weep for me, but I hush them....Hush Trees....this pain will not last. Hush... Hush...hush. And they believe me. They cry good, not bad. I cry good, not bad. We are grateful for each other.


Angie Ledbetter said...

Only you could make such alone-ness and human pain sound beautiful.

Barbara Quinn said...

Great descriptions. I was lost in the fog with you.

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