Uncloistered

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  “She gazed ahead through a long reach of future days strung together like pearls in a rosary, every one like the others, and all smooth and flawless and innocent, and her heart went up in thankfulness. Outside was the fervid summer afternoon; the air was filled with the sounds of the busy harvest of men and birds and bees; there were halloos, metallic clatterings, sweet calls, and long hummings. Louisa sat, prayerfully numbering her days, like an uncloistered nun.” A New England Nun By Mary E. Wilkins Freeman (1852–1930)

Clouds, like Aristophanes never saw.

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I couldn’t believe my eyes.

I was looking out the window at the gathering storm clouds when I saw it.

A cloud shaped like Pegasus. Unmistakable. Fantastic!

He was flying right along: legs pulled up in a gallop, head rearing up, mane flowing out behind and wings spread out from his back like a chicken.

Maybe it is a chicken. Well, it is now.

Scratching along in that great barnyard in the sky like a hotdog.

Well, it’s a hotdog now.

Now it’s gone.

And I’m hungry.

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