we are always moving through starbeams even on the cloudiest days light is arriving from one source or another: the one I’m standing in came ninety-three million miles
on this particular afternoon,in this moment for these wavesparticles, this road is the end of the journey while the rest streak on past en route to the gas giants or beyond who can say where it all will come to an end, or even if
but here and now, a truck passes and in the veil of dust our sun’s constant invisible geometry is fleetingly revealed
This photograph was taken by my good friend, Juanita Small Salmon, as part of a series we are collaborating on - her beautiful images (captured around her home at the foot of the Mission Mountains near Ronan, Montana) and my poems. Our dream is to one day put together a book, but for now we're just going to share them here from time to time. I coined the word "umbriel" for sun/dust beams in the road, like these, although I haven't used that term in the poem.
The Cloud Messenger (Meghadūta) is a lyric poem by the respected Indian poet, Kālidāsa. The poem centers around a yaksa in exile. Longing for his beloved, waiting for him on a Himalayan mountain, he asks a cloud to take a message to her. The sights he tells the cloud it will see on its way make up most of the poem.
The idea of recording observations appeals to me. I thought The Cloud Messenger was the perfect title for a blog about the journey that we all make as we move through our days.
I'm a baby boomer who grew up dancing in the streets of Detroit during the classic Motown years, lived beside the Rocky Mountains for many years, now retired and living (and writing full time) in S. Ontario. I have one blog for rock 'n' roll oldies, and one for nature, poetry and life along the Lake.