Are those our gigabytes flying with the clouds?
The late afternoon gusts herd the humidity off to the North East. Corrugated iron and powerlines clack and hum: castanet and aeolian harp underscoring an adagio for the receding sun.
Armadas of billowing clouds stream by; foc’sles firmly focused on a North East passage.
We place so much faith in the things we create, while all the while living with an abject fascination for the fickleness of nature.
I wonder if the wind will drop at dusk?