The other night I went out for a drive in the fading light of sunset, looking for fireflies. I didn’t see any, not yet, but it was a beautiful way to spend some time nonetheless. The music I had on in the background was dreamily perfect as I drove around the flat farmland with the shadowy crops, down the wooded two-lane that leads to the Point Pelee gate, and back. I paused at the marina to watch the shimmering reflections of the sodium-vapor lamps in the boat bays, and then swung around for home. Moths and other tiny, winged insects flocked to my headlights. Illuminated, almost strobe-lit, for a split-second or two, they veered off into the deepening dark. Just as I rounded the last curve onto my local road, which boasts no streetlights, a little bat swept up over my windshield, flickering in the dusty light like a scene from an old silent movie, and then the night swallowed us all.
From the soundtrack of my drive: “God’s Highway" - written by Tobias Fröberg, sung by Theresa Andersson and Tobias Fröberg.
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.