When your mind is blank and you really can't think of anything to write, there's always clouds.
My archives are full of them, usually in their gorgeous sunset colors.
I was scrolling through when I came upon these, more subtle, more mysterious than those colored by the setting sun.
But no less dramatic as they swirl and twist to eventually form
a grand lenticular cloud above the less spectacular clouds that cover the mountains below.
From Archives
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Thank you for your comments on Samson's poem for Gracie. I better watch myself because I'm beginning to believe this is indeed a real romance. And so does Bobbi, I think.
