This is something that I wrote on 1/20/2010. I was just describing the scenery I saw thought the window of the little Vietamese café I went to for lunch. If I'd had my camera on me, I’d have taken a picture.
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The Gilded Moment

The gilded clouds, like spun flax,
float lightly in the air,
their bottoms as flat as the
plains within the Valley.

You see them move,
bit by bit,
as if they were great ships.
They wave and shimmer like
fields of wheat waiting to be harvested.

Oh! how they tease!
Oh! how they tempt!

They beckon, they beg me,
to follow after them;
they fill my heart with a longing
to belong with them.

Yet as the sun sets,
the colour deepens.
The fields blaze orange,
as though on fire.

And then, the field leaves
and is obscured by night.
It is thus because it must be made known,
by nature and by life,
that this is a form of finality;
and that these clouds and I shall not meet again
under these circumstances;
so, cherish the moment,
(they do say that):
Cherish the moment.