A walk in the clouds

By Virginia Jasmin Pasalo

 

IN the morning,

when the clouds seem to race to the southern end of the sky,

I did not wait for the sun to shine, I walked

weaving my stride through the side streets

lined with old acacia trees,

among grasses that have grown up to my ankles,

feeling the dew, on my feet.

 

Stopping at a cluster of tall reeds,

I stuck out my tongue to tease the tiny bubbles of water

that tiptoed to the tip of the grass blades

and swallowed slowly, tasting the sweetness

of a gentle kiss

 

From the warmth of the kiss

it seemed, the clouds opened

for a little while, giving me the chance

to hear your song

from the silence of the vast sky

 

The birds who had lain claim to the untrodden ground,

did not fly away as I passed

oblivious of my presence

cavorting under the canopy of trees,

dancing with the shadows of leaves

that, distorted by the movement of the clouds,

appeared to be, broken wings

 

In the thickness of the crown of leaves,

the clouds were invisible,

and I would think they did not exist

if it were not for the thin rays of the sun

that managed to filter through

the branches of trees

 

But the clouds were there,

a thick blanket in the sky,

reluctant to move with the wind

refusing to let the sunshine in,

with pillows and pillows of dark cotton

threatening to suffocate anyone

attempting to walk over them.

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