When a cloud comes into being
it’s like a divine birth
taking place out of circumstance
completely unplanned
or planned by the highest level of knowing
simply inconceivable within our day-to-day.
At once, the sky is clear,
dark,
the day just beginning to break
and then,
out of nowhere,
a wisp appears—
just an impression.
If your eyes scrolled across the sky
you would think you’d imagined it,
almost imperceptible.
If you focus,
begin to trace the impression
from what appears to be it’s origin
you see that it is in fact connected
to thousands,
millions,
trillions
of other little particles in the sky.
A spackling of little impressions
all drawn together
colored pink and peach in the mornings light
like the regression of foam on a latte
First,
barely there
then just moments later, more defined
then it grows
and outlines
a micro system
is born.
Cirrostratus.
Cirrus – wisp-like.
Stratus – layers.
Little whispers layered
on the great canvas in the sky.
Caia Rose 