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Cloud

“Let’s go! Let’s go!” the rain chattered excitedly, bouncing up and down in the vast gray cloud driving toward the clearest blue skies.

“Are we there yet? Are we there yet?” they asked and whined.

“And the heavy cloud sighed.

“Just a little longer,” it muttered. “Be patient little ones. Be patient.”

“Just a little longer! Just a little longer!” the raindrops chanted. Just a little longer we can free fall!”

The cloud plowed along. His heavy cargo made him wish for a gust of wind to push him from behind, and at the very moment he thought it, there it was – a strong gale driving from the south and forcing him closer to their destination.

“Wheeee!” the rain cried merrily. “Faster! Faster!”

They were almost there. To the valley beyond the purple mountainous peaks jutting into the vast openness below. Or above. It was all the same really. One big space where the birds and big machines soared across and through, casting shadows on the earth.

“Are we there yet? Are we there yet?” the raindrops asked again, clamoring for the window space where they could look and see the world they loved to visit for just a brief moment before they were sucked back into the air, slurped higher and higher until they were scooped up by a father or mother cloud and carried again across the sky.

“Yes, my children, we are here,” the cloud announced.

“And all around him, other clouds arrived, everyone holding their excited little raindrops, those devilish children who loved to fall freely and dive through the air.

“Wheeee!” the squealed, stomping on the soft floor of their cloud until small holes sucked them into the dark gray skies where they joined their friends in the race toward earth.

No tears were shed from the cloud as his load was lightened by the exodus of rain. Instead, he sighed with relief, content to cool off the ground below with these beads of moisture which annoyed him so.

One day, he longed to be the fluffy white cloud which drifted lazily through the blue sky without a care in the world. Surely that day was more than a dream?

Oh, he certainly hoped so!

– Written by Miss A on January 22, 2012

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About 365 Things to Write About

I'm inspired by almost anything and everything creative - nature, architecture, art, words, music...I like to roam along streets, through foreign countries, and within my mind where the world is full of endless possibilities. I dream of being an idealist, but I've experienced too many harsh realities for that wish to ever be true. Therefore, I look for the hope and the good in small nuances, and I express my thoughts and feelings about the world around me on pages and canvases whenever I can.

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