Of leaves and clouds
After this life is over I want to spend the first hundred years watching leaves fall from trees in autumn—maple, sycamore, oak, tulip, apple, see them floating down, ride on each leaf as it slides and scoots, dives and floats up on whispers.
The the next hundred years as a cloud, forming, re-forming, shape changing, now cumulus, now cirrus, once in a while stratus, teaming with bacteria and life, now and again nimbus shouting, booming, dark with flashes to wash the earth, feed the plants, & bring people together in hugs.
:- Doug.
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