Clouds

Clouds Clouds IVE OPENED THE CURTAIN of my east window hither higher(prenominal) up the computer, and I sit now in a consecrated theater before a sky-blue stage. A niggling cloud above the neighbors trees resembles Jimmy Durantes nose for a while, thence becomes amorphous as it slips on north. Other clouds follow, oversized and picayune and tiny on their march toward whereness. Wisps of them lead or bum about because there moldiness always be leading and drooping. The trees be to laugh at the clouds while merely reaching for them with swaying branches.

Trees must think that they atomic number 18 real, root ed, somebody, and that perhaps the clouds are only tickled piss which sometimes blocks their sun. But trees are clouds, too, of fountain leaves--clouds that only transport a little. Trees grow and change and drive off like their airborne cousins. And what am I but a cloud of thoughts and feelings and aspirations? Dont I put out tentative mists here and there? Dont I occasionally appear to other hoi polloi as a ridiculous shape of t...If you want to bum a wide essay, order it on our website: BestEssayCheap.com

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