Author’s Note: I always regard the cloud as the sheep in the sky ranch as if the wind being a phantom shepherd or cowboy were driving them into a glazing pasture where they can graze peacefully on the celestial meadow under his watchful eyes. Watching the moving clouds always amazes me as a nature’s panoramic play of wonder.
You may fret,
Sometimes it may
prove to be fortunate.
P.S. According to Herodotus, an ancient Greek historian who is regarded as the Father of History for his pioneering method of compiling historical records in a narrative form, the Germanic tribes in the Rhine considered repose from war as a time to recuperate their spent vigor and stamina for the next round of the battleground. They spent the repose doing absolutely nothing but performing their physiological and biological functions to the point of sloth and gluttony. (The accompaniment of German beer was primary, if not absolute.)
In the eyes of the learned and culturally sophisticated Greek, however, it was a sight to behold, a wondrous admixture of lackadaisicalness and prudence in a way that looked effective for rejuvenation.
My repose is not as starkly static as those ancient Germans, but it is a time of getting my hands off the helm of existential duties and responsibilities for a little while – to write a new chapter of my life in the continuous search of meaning and purpose thereof as a pioneer woman on the 21st century western frontier. Hence I wrote this very short poem during the current repose.