Stuck on a metaphor

Is this a living landscape where the sun, the earth and moisture combine in a joyous dance? Or am I reading too much into it?

Is this a living landscape where the sun, the earth and moisture combine in a joyous dance? Or am I reading too much into it? I see a dance hall.

 

Is this the invitation to dance? I think the moisture emerging from the earth in that cloud is wanting to dance in the sun. This cloud wants its dance card signed.

Dancing clouds—I’m stuck on that metaphor.

I’ve lived on many continents, in many climates but only in this region have I felt—joyous, dancing clouds. Only here have I seen the clouds emerge from the earth.

Yesterday I watched clouds emerge from the earth, become dancing players in the sky and then dissolve before my eyes. Over and over. Great pleasure indeed I had.

For dedicated cloud watchers, I have, in this region, learned to distinguish between watching the dance and participating in the dance. Yesterday I watched.

Here are some of the players arriving for the dance–look carefully–each has its own style:

I’m stuck in that metaphor; and I don’t mind. It is a simple pleasure.

…Clou…d…s…

…the changing of the airs…

There are days when I look across the valley and see flows of clouds, flows of clouds I do not understand. Right side of the brain…nil. Left side of the brain…nil.

Yet, I am entranced by the beauties of the flows…

Other days, I wake up, eager to see those flows…and I find…what might as well be infinitely far away…something in that distance…all by itself…sigh.

…and it begins…

I sigh confronted by beauty I can not fathom. Clouds…if I can not grasp them in my hands, how can I describe them? How can I write about them?

Suggestions?