Rich in clouds

     Bursting out of the house with Kitty for her nighttime stroll Friday, I was met with an array of clouds so arresting, I couldn't have been more taken aback had they all yelled "Surprise!"

     I paused, took a single photograph, then we went on our way, into the darkness — the phone cameras are so good nowadays, they can make a quite dark scene seem brighter than it actually was.

     I really savored those clouds, and they set the tone for the next 24 hours. The next morning we got an early phone call — not always harbinger of good news, but in this case it was. A ... young couple of our acquaintance would be passing by our vicinity on their way elsewhere. Might we be enticed to breakfast? Yes, indeed, we might. My wife's first impulse was to start whipping up some satisfying spread. But time was short, and instead we trotted off to Georgie V's at the appointed hour, walking both to build our appetites and because it's, what, a 10 minute stroll? Twelve tops. 

     There I met a young boy with a simply gorgeous sweater — both the brilliant scarlet color and the meticulous knitting. I think I can reproduce a detail without stealing his soul. It didn't seem the sort of thing that could be bought for money in a store, and I inquired of his mother, and found it was not — it had been knitted by his safta, or grandmother. I squelched the temptation to exclaim to my wife, "We must learn to knit immediately! We must start producing sweaters such as this!" Shutting up is an art form I struggle to master. But in this case I was successful, and merely appreciated the handiwork. Though later, when the small person began to squall, I was so bold as to scoop him up — an unwelcome intrusion under most social circumstances but in this case, let me assure you, entirely appropriate — and stepped to the entranceway where I gently rocked and swooped the compact chico in a soothing fashion, deploying my go-to song in such situations for good measure.

Moon river, wider than a mile
I'm crossing you in style, some day
Oh dream maker, you heart breaker.
Wherever you are going, I'm going, someday

     Nothing like a good song to seal the moment. Two mornings later, not a cloud in the sky, but the temperature bracingly brisk, the coffee brewed, the morning ripe with promise, Kitty and I once more burst out of the house. Lately I've been listening to books on Audible, but at this instant I was inclined toward music, and the algorithm served up a Sarah McLachlan song I'd never heard before, "Elsewhere." I might have skipped to the next song, as I sometimes do, but decided to give a listen to what the creator of "Fallen" might have on her mind.

I love the time
and in between
the calm inside me in the space
where I can breathe
I believe there is a distance
I have wandered to touch upon the years of
reaching out
and reaching in
holding out
holding in. I believe
this is heaven
to no one else but me
and I'll defend it as long as
I can be
left here to linger
in silence.

     Exactly. Well, not so much the "silence" part. "Shutting up is an art form that ..." But some mornings, well, it all seems to fall into place.