the sun is hidden
behind full darkening clouds
distant thunder rolls
rain falls heavily
splashing puddles grow larger
the sky is now black
trees sway in the breeze
a limb scratches my window
a ghost of the past
will the darkness end?
will the sun ever come back out?
I long for its warmth
I don’t want to say that I’m fascinated by its immensity or by the many colors that weave in and out at different times of the day. But I am. During the summer, I’m up before the sun. Often driving to work as it starts to peak over the mountains to the east. The quietness of the morning is made more beautiful by the pinks, purples, and oranges found in the sky. The clouds, stretched thin, begin to mix with the pale blue of the sky.
Many find it hard to see the clouds move. I don’t. I remember the first time I noticed a big, puffy cloud moving quickly across a pale blue sky. This moment was unexpected—something I had never thought of before. How long before someone else sees the same cloud? Out the window ever-darkening clouds loom over the hills. Morphing from gray to the deepest shades of blue. I watch them form. Watched them appear. A process that in itself is both slow and fast. I look away only to look back again and see the gap is closing. Steadily. I think they’re racing. Trying to see which one can reach the exact spot in the sky above me first. Sure, they’re just clouds. But weren’t we taught when we were little to look for shapes in the clouds? A dinosaur here, a car there. Not the darkness steadily overtaking us.
It’s easy to lose oneself in something that is so much greater than we are. I often find in the sky what I need at that moment. Maybe that explains my fascination. Maybe not. The sky is there to calm me. To help me see new things. The sky is consistent. It’s always there. Even the minimal light put off by the moon and the stars is enough to help me find my way. To reflect. A night with no stars and no moons, though completely dark, is still navigable.
Sunsets are my favorite part of the day. My friends make fun of me because I’m always taking pictures. But no two sunsets are the same. Even in the seconds between when my finger hits the button, the sun can descend completely below the horizon. Seemingly lost in space and time. Leaving behind a trail of clouds similar to those of the morning, fading into the blue backdrop. These fleeting moments take with them bits good and bad moments. Moments that may define us. Moments that may define the sunset.
There are scientific explanations about why clouds move, why the sun rises and sets each day, about what the atmosphere is for. Is the sky really blue? Or is it just a reflection? While these questions can be answered, they matter very little to me. What does matter is how I perceive the sky, and that I continue to look to it for hope, reassurance, and whatever it is that I may need in that moment.
hidden somewhere behind the gray of the sky
is the sun
it’s golden hue no longer emitted
a dreary bleakness replaces it
most trees have lost their leaves
and with no sun to strike the yellows and reds of those that are left
their beauty may seem to have disappeared
overtaken by a thin layer of gray
reminiscent of the sun
the clouds continue to darken
shifting slightly closer with each second
but does this truly make nature any less beautiful?
with no sun to capture all the attention
beauty lingers in the darkening shades of the leaves
and the layers of darkening clouds
are a mass of colors not seen every day
the day is peaceful