They slide quietly by in loose cottony shapes of abstract chickens and dragons, the head of a cat, the tall pillowy hat of a drum major.
They roll and tumble in slow motion, opening gaping holes to the inky cosmos, making room for moonlight to seep through, before shifting and loosely forming the shape of the United States then Mexico. Their high altitude frolicking coincides with the last slice of ultimate silence between night and sunrise, that brief moment when clouds slide slowly by, their edges highlighted by the light of a crescent moon, the trees and their leaves still but for a few drops of heavy dew falling through to the ground. That one last peaceful moment, when about all you hear is the steady rhythm of your pulse inside your ears, before the distant din of the highway commences again, before the crows kick in, before the beep, beep, beep of a delivery truck down the street signals the start of another day.
Amazing. I usually work till dawn - I'm a night owl - and the silence that fills Earth as I hit bed seeing the sunrise, is, somehow feels, out of this world even though all I see is nature with fresh eyes.
Well done, Rich - I recognize that final moment of silence before the day begins to signal its arrival.