There Be Clouds

A day of prompts and inspiration

Inspiration comes. It comes and we respond or miss out. Yesterday was a day of smoky grey skies and wanting to stay inside. Actually, not just wanting to stay inside but warned by weather forecasters to stay inside due to poor air quality. No langorous summer walks, no soaking up rays under shade of green trees. Still, inspiration arrived in the form of Facebook and Substack.

First, I have been following a photo-a-day challenge a friend posted on Facebook for the month of August. Instead of taking the recommended photos, I’ve been writing poems. I’m not good at follow-through on these types of things, but I have managed a poem a day for three days in a row (whoot whoot!). Today’s Facebook post was in response to “Shapes in the Clouds” (Link: Shapes in the Clouds).

With clouds on the brain, I was so excited to also see a Substack post about a Photography Art Installation titled "Nimbus" by Berndnaut Smilde.

Cool, right? One photo in particular caught my eye and I immediately began writing.

When Clouds Cry

All week, I've been trying to let the dog in and out without letting in the bugs. On summer evenings, with the porch light on, the moths are delirious and swarm the door piling into the house like a group of overstimulated concert-goers that have been waiting outside with their tents and sleeping bags for days. Last night, I thought I had gotten the dog in and out fast enough, but just as I was about to close the door a wisp of white slipped in like smoke. It was a cloud, a small wandering cloud. It slipped in like a long sheer scarf, then reformed itself into sort of a ball, constantly moving and reforming. I tried to shoo it out but it was ineffable, soluble, impossible to hold. I finally said goodnight as it lingered in the hall. It seemed to like the glow of the nightlight spilling out from the bathroom. Once, when I got up, it was laying like a down comforter on the floor. Later, towards morning, I found it tucked up in a corner and crying. By morning, there was nothing left of it but a damp spot on the wall. Clouds can't survive in captivity, it seems. Even those that come inside uninvited.  

By Laura L. Hansen

Inspired by the Photoghraphic Art "Nimbus" by Berndnaut Smilde

Here are the two pieces, Nimbus and When Clouds Cry, together.

Hope sun and fresh air are headed your way. As always, thanks for reading and sharing. And remember, inspiration is never far away. - Laura