Cloud : Cumulus Mediocris

Looked at as a whole I’m a bit like a croissant you stuffed in your bag on the way to work and forgot about then took out later all misshapen and beaten and barely edible, the little flecks of pastry in your bag the small wisps that the wind broke from my body.

To that guy over there who can only see my eastern edge, the knobbly bit that sticks up there is like a cliff he once saw on a walk he took with an ex-girlfriend, a girlfriend who probably should’ve stayed a friend as they were friends first and it was always going to get a bit messy if they did get together.

That child over there in the playground who is looking directly up at me and who has little imagination is seeing my underside and seeing a poo, though he’s not quite sure whether it’s human or animal, which is leading him to try to remember and categorise different types of poo.

For that teenager there I look like Australia, at least my outline does from the angle she’s looking at me, mainly because she drew Australia in geography today, along with its cities and places of geological and geographical interest, the rivers and deserts and mountains, which in turn makes her wonder whether it would be a good place to escape to, especially when she’s older and doesn’t have to listen to her father, all the TV shows are sunny after all.

To that men getting out of his car I’m a thought bubble, my flecks the small circles leading from a cartoon character’s head to the bubbly thought. To that woman I’m an archipelago seen from a tropical beach. To that baby I’m white, yes, white, on blue. And to that sunbather I’m potential shade, bringing a chill and stopping her from bronzing.

But I’m none of these things. All of them and none of them. I’m a cloud, a cumulus mediocris. I’m made up of tiny water droplets and ice crystals and I’m white and look like a heap. I change shape and usually I’m a sign of fair weather. I move and grow and dissipate. I exist in and of myself.

Which you would have thought was exciting enough, but it isn’t, is it, because it’s more important that I look like a bloody croissant.

5 thoughts on “Cumulus

  1. wow, this is one of my favorites. i think you’ve really done some new and interesting stuff with perspective, briefly visiting the thoughts and lives of the sky gazers. you cover plenty of ground-um-i mean air here, and i love the opening lines.

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