Late Afternoon. Walking.

 

Late afternoon. Walking. The wind has a bit of a bite to it. It's pleasant. I alternate between looking at the footpath below and the sky above. I don't want to trip on any uneven spots, but I would rather keep my eyes on the sky. Eventually, I stop by a field and just watch the show. The clouds with their subtle colours change shape and drift, altering the light as they play hide and seek with the sun and the random patches of blue. The fog hangs low over the hills. The beautiful lines of the bare tree branches seem to be different from one minute to the next as the background shifts and moves. I watch, mesmerized, and think of Thich Nhat Hanh saying, 'A cloud never dies.' We walk on, stopping once or twice to admire the views. There is no rush.

Home. Making a cup of tea, I see the clouds and the sky again. Spooning up the tea leaves, I see the sun and rain that helped the plants to grow. Pouring the water, I see the clouds in a different form. Sipping my tea, I feel the sky--the peace and joy it gave to me one late afternoon, walking.

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