Sparrows vs. Clouds

Today is a sparrow day, as opposed to a cloud day.

Clouds are kind of like demigods. They float as far away as anything on earth (that you can still see with your eyes!), and they're as big as continents sometimes. They can end drought or cause floods, destroy lives and livelihoods with tornadoes and hurricanes - and they are often the centerpieces of the most beautiful honeymoon sunsets. They can be gentle, stunning, cold, cruel, lovely, terrible and oppressive - and often many of these simultaneously. They affect all of us, change our schedules, alter the lives of everybody living in an entire region. Clouds see the big picture. Sometimes I feel like a cloud.

Sparrows make small sounds, calling to one another, and flit about one or two feet above the ground. They are agile, and unlike most birds, they spend most of their time looking across, rather than down. They are brown and fawn and cream, neutral. One might miss them, unless one looks for them, but they are bright-eyed, and special. They are happy in their small groups, searching for bits and pieces to eat, always together. I don't want to look up, or down today. I want to look across, make my small sounds, and be happy doing it. I don't want to concern myself today with anything more important than finding food and calling to my pals (what's more important than that?).

I had the most hilariously irritating dream this morning! I spent yesterday evening at the mall looking for scarves for my waist, and huge gold hoop earrings, and I played around with my hair and dance outfits for about an hour before doing a little weightlifting and going to bed. I slept really well.

Anyways, in this dream, I was in a minivan with a group of middle-aged women, heading to a water park. We got there, and one woman introduced her boyfriend, who had met us there... And he had a horrible stutter. The beginning of every sentence was repeated at least 5 times, and I was getting a little bit impatient with him. I asked him a question, and he got stuck on "do mean," as in "they do mean that, yadda yadda," and couldn't get past it. He'd stop in bewilderment, and then start, "do mean, do mean, do mean, do mean," and then stop and try again. My alarm radio went off, and I sat and listened for a minute, when a really excited robin in the oak tree outside my window went "DO MEAN! DO MEAN! DO MEAN! DO MEAN!" I cracked up.