one small cloud unseen

  elated.

  heart racing.

  This is the feeling of falling in love, and yet, tonight i am simply reading a story for the children of this town. that is all. my voice, reading words carefully with feeling to children, what children i do not know, maybe one, maybe many. Perhaps they are listening so attentively, perhaps they are scrolling by my voice along with a miriad of other devices, perhaps (dare i imagine) perhaps they are under a blanket with their own phone, thinking they are a little too old for bedtime stories and yet.. smiling as they are carried into dreams they didn't know they could dream.

  elated

 heart racing.

   This is my path, my purpose, my why i am here. I wonder though, i panic a little, did i come to the table too late. For so long i wanted to start something here, gather children around me and tell them stories, explore fields and gather rocks and feathers and sticks. And now, when I am leaving them, now when 

I am saying goodbye, I offer this invitation.

elated

heart racing

just beginning to fall apart 

   Why did i have to waste so much time in fear. Why was I so slow to find courage? 

i have to do this. I have to read stories and more than read, inhabit them and tell them with my eyes bright and my imagined realm surrounding them, until they can call it up on their own. This is my calling, to help

them see, for times that are hard and for times that are happy. There is always a story and it is always what is needed. 

   elated

   heart racing

   just beginning to fall into my part in this performance

   

   my stage. the earth. my coworkers the trees and flowers. my friends the rivers and oceans.

   my inspiration the wind and my home the clouds. oh the clouds.

   lovely rolling clouds.

   they are perhaps just as frightened as i am. 

   will they fill with water and roar thundrously about

    there is no guarentee that they will be a gentle wispy cloud,

one that people gaze up at and say, " i see a sheep" no " i see a great ship"

  oh look - oh look.

perhaps they are this lovely of a cloud, but they come at a time when

the sky is crowded and no one can see the shape that they are.

Perhaps this is my story.

My story about the cloud that wasn't seen.

and the courage it took her to.. to.. fly lower.. fly out on her own.

I say I want to run to the dark forest at night and survive. 

Perhaps that is courage, but this too, this revealing of oneself, this obvious

cloud beingness in broad day light.

elated

heart racing

does anyone undertand.

do i.

i need to find my story.