Walking downhill on my road at the end of April, my friend and I came across clouds like smudged words in the sky. I wandered ("lonely as a cloud"?) through a book here on North American weather, a thrilling find. According to the photos -- and with no true understanding -- the closest I came to naming them was altocumulus undulatas, under "middle clouds." Well, whatever they were, they were quite beautiful and mysterious. It was like finding an erased message written on a blue chalkboard. What did it say?
The poet is like the prince of the clouds
Who haunts the tempest and laughs at the archer;
Exiled on the ground in the midst of jeers,
His giant wings prevent him from walking.
-- Charles Baudelaire, "L'Albatros," st. 4, from Les Fleurs du Mal (1861)
The photo was taken 4/29/10. Click on image to enlarge.
At my desk
8 years ago
3 comments:
Breathtaking.
Thank you, Ms. Mayo! I trust you are well.
Viva blogging! Good wishes to you!
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