CLOUDS of IMAGINATION and REALITY

I'm amazed at the things I see on my way to and from work. As I look out the window of my vehicle, I notice things. I notice how clouds are lighted from a rising sun and how they are lighted from a setting sun.

Last night the clouds were stacked up in the western horizon. They were giant mountains. They towered over the small dark mountain ranges on the backside of the Great Salt Lake. They were illuminated as large snow covered peaks shooting heavenward. I estimated them to be 20, 000 feet high but they could have been higher.

I like the way they surrounded the basin. The bottoms a brilliant, glaring white; the tops bright but not with as much glare. The middle sections interspersed with gray, blue and a soft tangerine. I know they were on the move--both upward and across the sky. From my vantage, they were motionless, far enough away that I could not detect the movement or the wind that carries them to unknown destinations.

I imagine the moisture within the clouds rising upward and freezing and then falling as hail. I imagine the rain pelting the foothills and mountain tops as the clouds lessen their load before sailing over the ridges and peaks. I want to feel the release of latent heat as the winds blow down the slopes of rain-shadow valleys and disappear into nothingness. I imagine the spark of lightning and the burst of sound as thunder ricochets off canyon walls.

I stand in cloud dressed canyons, weeping rain, cold upon my skin; a refreshment from summer heat. I listen to the rumble of colliding energy. The power of the storm settling into the fiber of my being. I feel the hair on my arms and back of my neck rise with goose bump skin, and have my heart race with fear as flashing thunder mingles with my soul.

Drenched from wet wading a stream all day, and standing in a drizzle all evening, I strip off my clothes and hang them on a rope stretched between two trees.  I pitch my tent and go to bed early, the darkness of the storm adding to my ability to slumber.

Awakened by light, I look out of the tent and witness the full moon guarding the forest. Moonbeams reflect in raindrops and hang on aspen leaves, waiting for a breeze before jumping to the ground. I check my watch. It's only midnight. I nestle back into my sleeping bag but it's too light to sleep. My eyes dilated with visions of stars and trout.

I hear the morning alarm of chirping birds and rush from the tent to my clothes. Still wet, and heavy with coolness, I put them on. Black skies have given way to blue. Soon the sun will be drying the earth. I add a few tears to the moisture as I grab my fly rod and head for the stream. I walk into the water, wipe the last drop off my cheek and begin to cast.  In my heart, I long for a friend. I know it won't be long before one rises and welcomes me to a new day.