In the clouds. That was the place to be when it was high summer. Three young angels danced through the morning mist, white linen gowns making no sound as they moved. "Dahlia, when will the mist clear so we can collect the first morning light?" asked one. "When it clears, Opal." Dahlia said patiently, looking at her empty jar. "Be patient, you two. The mist will clear soon, i can just see the sun." said the last, sitting on a rock. Suddenly, the morning sun burst through the mist, lighting the world. The three angels were quick. They scooped up their jars and flew closer to the glow, where they dipped their jars into the warm, rich light. Opal returned to the cloud and fell upon it, laughing as her sisters collapsed on top of her. Yes, the clouds were definitely the place to be in high summer.
I have been many places, seen many things, been many things as well, but what I shall never stop being, is a writer, a traveler of dreams and the human soul. My name is none of your concern. Call me anything or nothing; I may not answer to anything, or answer to everything.