Drifting. For evermore.

Clouds. Moving. Broken clouds. A half-hour before sunset. Sunlight reflecting off the tips of puffy and misshapen clouds.  Passing swiftly. I’m captivated. By the movement. The glistening light. Ominous black clouds, too. And big patches of blue. Clouds.  Virtually every day.  In Sardinia, the Mediterranean island paradise. Can’t remember the last completely cloudless day. Oh, maybe for a few hours. But never for 24. Maybe happens in summertime. But I’m here only in  autumn and winter. I’m in love.  With clouds.  I want to hop aboard.   Some day, I will. When I become  spirit.  Imagine that. Looking down instead of up. And drifting, drifting, drifting. For evermore. –Jim Broede