The bridge that spanned the river inclined just enough to elevate me over the horizon's landscape. Driving east I saw the mountain line, which guards Dayton, and the valley below--still frozen from the night. Hanging overhead of the valley and the mountain was a winter sky, a cosmic drawing.
Running southeast to northwest, clouds striped a perfectly blue sky. At near-perfect intervals, the stripes marked the sky like a football field of blue. The stratocumulus formations seemed pregnant with snow--gray, robust bellies curved around and up, whitening as the clouds grew taller. They were heavy. The wind emptied the sky in-between--clear allies for the sun to shine through.
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5 comments:
Publious, you are such a good writer...
Well thank you, sir. I happen to think you're pretty good at what you do as well.
It's funny; after I wrote this I wasn't really happy with how it turned out . . .
Typical of good writers . . . never satisfied, no matter how good everyone else assures you it is! :)
You know, you've used the words "good" and "writer" consecutively a few times when talking about me before, but each time I'm still taken aback a bit, given who it is that's giving the praise.
Thanks. :)
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