Cloud Beneath the Sun

Blanket clouded chilly day. As calm air stands still and lines form in the breeze, light colors raise and die under a dazzling range of grey, and white, that sits behind the trees, as cities move high and underneath fall leaves, a child walked alone.

With dirty shoes on the sidewalk. With pale skin under winter coat. With a question on their mind, for the cloud above that floated underneath the sun, in between the sky and on top of the child.

"It is true," asked the child. "the sun is warm? And bright? And does it shine behind your grey? Could that be why there's light at day?" Shoes make rough, coarse scrapes as sounds form shapes, and distant and low, a dingy echo, but nothing replied the cloud. "How can that be," asked the child. "when in the way, you hover, cast your shroud?"

"The sun's ferocity can burn" the cloud said, a voice which spilled like rain. Cold and loud, and fell down the drain. "I hide you from its hurtful gaze but some light through my cracks prevails and that is why there is light at day when under it I'm cast," the airy cloud said last. Grey all drifting in from flatness endless on all sides. Starless skies and missing rainfall under cloudfull nights. With a churn the cloud said, "Truly, I dont wish to hide from you the sight of sunlight nor of daylight, healthy may it be." "Merely," then the cloud continued. "I protect you from whats in you from what images you crave for, from the burning heat I stay for."

Down below the child listened, sight of sun unseen. cold air round their head, and words unsaid, they stepped along the still wind's breeze and underneath the trees.

And that night, rain fell hard, and cold, and loudly crumbled, crashed, and froze, upon the chilly dewy ground and thunder boomed across the cloud and underneath fall leaves a stream of water pooled and puddled sloshed down sidewalks, streets, and under trees and sturdy roof a child slept alone.

CRASH!

And glass came pouring Mixed with rain and tumbled to the floor and soaking in the grain, between the wood and on the rug, the water stained. The smashed up window yawned and cried, with sounds of pain.

A chilly breeze flew in, like tears, and the child, in bed covered his ears, and prayed the storm away, so he could sleep till day.

Then, his eyes unscrewed to see in the sky, behind the swirling cloud fighting with itself, the sun? How could it be the sun?

A pale frozen sun, All dim and old sat in her throne ancient and alone and cold, in the sky's great land and sang, with a hollow tune a feeble command which sent the storm away and it was silent until day.