Scenery

 Driving home from work, on that hot afternoon, was a welcomed relief. My feet ached, from standing all day, and I was drenched in the rare summer swelter. I lowered the window and let the rushing wind dry my skin at the tempo of overplayed rock ‘n roll tunes from the car radio. The outlying clouds formed threatening shapes in the southern sky and there before me one of them rose like an apocalyptic mushroom to catch my eye. I followed it along my winding rout, my eyes darting from its airy splendour to the asphalt road ahead, trying not to lose it. It hovered there on display. A singular piece of frozen beauty resembling a churning ball of dense white smoke, lighted from above by the setting sun, as if by design, and contrasting perfectly against the pale, muggy backdrop. I pulled over on the side of the road and sat on my car’s rusting hood, staring at the cottony sculpture while traffic whizzed by undisturbed and lost in the delirium of timetables. Beauty comes at us unexpectedly. We can either ignore it or sit there, dumbfounded by its glory, absorbing its momentary magnificence before it deteriorates in the turmoil, leaving behind remnants of its near-perfection in our mind.  The rain falls, calming and cool. I walk through it, slowly, wanting every drop to touch me, wanting every particle of it to flow down my skin. It flows down my face until I savour its accumulated course on my lips. My every molecule is stimulated into wakefulness.