The other night I was a little later than usual rolling out my garbage can for the morning collection, so I took a flashlight along. My road is small town/rural, with no sidewalks and only a couple of streets lights, both of which are situated too far from my place to shed any light. I stopped to listen to the crickets, their chirps and buzzes running together in the night air until they formed a seamless vibration, like the music of the constellations turning overhead. Heading back to the house I noticed black ants racing along the edge of my front walkway, and a few black beetles, too, still burning the midnight oil. What did they make of my golden beam briefly illuminating their cover of darkness? On the wooden stoop, I found a glistening slug making its way from somewhere to somewhere. As I watched it move across the Jovian glow of my red step, I realized I have no idea if it will bury itself and sleep over winter, or leave that to its larval offspring. Whole existences are living here in ways I know nothing about. Entire cycles of nameless beings that perhaps don’t even have a Latin name. Nor need one, really. There is so much to wonder about, be amazed at. I looked up into the star- sky just as a winking satellite moved noiselessly through Cassiopeia
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.