Rain is coming. I can smell its sweet whiff on the breeze. A storm prowls out there beyond my eyes power to see. But dark clouds hunker in the fore: the storm's vanguard. The birds know it's coming. They've vacated the skies to... I know not where.
clouds rise like smoke from turbulent cascades -- ghosts ascending
fringed by clouds,
the valley sat under blue —
but not for long
stupas point up to the vast blue skies; nothing points back
Looking out the car's rear window, I saw a strange and alien sky, and wondered where I was, and whether I was still somewhere that I would - elsewise - recognize, and - if not - whether I could get back, and whether I would want to go back. I saw a strange and alien sky, and did not look to see the ground.
the rising sun paints from a vivid palette, but - soon - skies cool
Tiger Riding for Beginners 