Clouds | Britta Benson

We have tried to see what’s not there since before the beginning of time even ended. Sky, our open minded companion, our vast context of who knows what, invites liminal thoughts from all sides to puff up like smoke signs. Could those intriguing tufts and fluffballs really be just gathered up water drops and ice crystals floating high above our heads? Surely, there’s more to this white quickening. I’m intrigued. I stare. I see.

Gulls glide through new ghosts,

footprints of past souls traverse,

release future hope.

 Britta Benson is a circus skills instructing German, a writer, performer and linguist thriving in Scotland, her chosen habitat since the year 2000. She runs a creative writing group, The Procrastinators, and writes a daily blog, Britta’s Blog – Letters from Scotland as well as her poetry blog, Odds & Ends She also stares out of her window a lot and drinks far too much tea.

8 thoughts on “Clouds | Britta Benson

    1. Thank you so much, Terveen. I do love staring at clouds. Today I saw a skeleton fish face in one of the clouds and I said to my husband: ‘Look, how pretty!’. Now, I really don’t want to know what that means. Is there such a thing as cloud interpretation? Perhaps not knowing is better…

      Liked by 1 person

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