The cloud mimicked a mountain top, its ridge sun fired to bright white by the rising sun, its shadow side in granite gray, being impenetrable to the sun's rays. Mountains that imposing live a thousand miles away, but that cloud took me there. the morning sun lights up a dense cloud to mimic mountains
out of my cell & onto the trail i walk the vast expanse, the vault of heaven above & hills of rolling green beneath my feet and clouds barge through blue skies like thoughts barge through my mind - sluggishly but inevitably
on a green hillside stands a line of dead trees, looking like driftwood
amid buff sands - bare and blistering - stands a shrub, the carroty coned ephedra bush
densely packed stands of pine, the dark green insinuating black shadow set against the verdant grassy meadows and shaggy scrubland it makes the mountain look angular, with sharp edges pounded into shape the pine-writ shadows steal depth, suggesting absence, creating the impression of emptiness, a false void... or so it seems
the sage's staff swings like a pendulum in a clockwork walk
clouds drift; a boy traces shapes with a pointing finger
