cloud cast

I haven't been able to find words recently, but I just had to write to a friend, so I sat myself down and forced them out. This is a paraphrase.

I feel like I've been unintentionally stand-offish recently, but I have been so restless, struggling for/against pinning myself down with written words. Spring fever? I don't know. What I know is that the clouds have been insane here; stormy, quick-changing.

They're huge and dynamic for hours, tumbling in impossible verticals and casting down shadows upon each other that have me almost in tears. And then suddenly the sky is a flat low sheet the grey color of old wet tissues or a dishrag. The next minute the sky is clear blue forever with a few little wisps that move quickly as the try to exeunt the emptiness. It takes my breath away and it's stolen control of my moods.

I've spent hours of the past couple of weeks just looking at clouds. For a while I'd try to find shapes in them, but there are none recognizable. They are power, they are drama, they are life force. Sometimes my jaw drops, sometimes my eyes well up. I try to hide my reactions, because I'm only watching the sky. I curse April and I hold it high in my esteem. Is anyone else as driven-insane?

What's getting me through: the heavily Scottish-accented singer of the Twilight Sad, heavy doses of the Verve's "A Storm In Heaven," and Kenard H.K.

I saw an empty, bloody egg on the bark path around the lake the other day. I looked around for its dead occupant, but there were no fauna to be found. I worried that this was a sign, but then at the end of the trail were a big group of young goslings, indestructible youth in their bright yellow fuzz. Rebirth. Spring.