I stood on the rocks today, by the lake, watching the sky, seeing it darken around the edges. Lights dimming as though slowly being switched off, as clouds stretched closer, and the water grew black around me.
I could not move. I had not meant to stay out very long, but I could not leave that sky. I watched it, heard rain start to fall behind me, felt the first drop of it on my skin, and still I stayed. I don’t mind getting wet, not when I’m close to home. And it was one of those moments that I wanted to be in the middle of, like in the heart of a storm, though there was no wind, only silence and a darkness inching closer. But there was light also, golden glints of it between the clouds.
I sat down. Waited for the rain. But it did not come, instead, I felt hail, heard it sing through the trees before it reached me. And it did not sting. It was a strange thing to sit in the middle of a hail shower, that felt soft, almost like snow. It filled the hood of my coat, and got in my hair, and I tipped my head back to stare into its silver thick stream. Gradually it stopped, and the lights turned back on, the sky a thick sleepy grey. So I got up, brushed white, soft stones from my coat and climbed up the hill, to the road leading home.
I feel at times I’m still walking through winter, even with flowers coming up everywhere, and new leaves sprouting on trees. The air is so cold, and the nights still breathing ice through my window. I do hope it will warm up, that it won’t be a cold summer like last year.
My husband and I went for a hike through the forest last Sunday, and I watched the sky then too. We came to a clearing with a dirt road and houses, and I saw how dark it was, beautiful, powerful, brewing a storm above grey apple trees. And it hailed, and I heard a crack of thunder, shaking the sky.
I feel the world breaking open, and earlier on my walk today, I imagined the Goddess tipping a pot of gold through the cracks in the clouds, making flowers and colors spread over fields and grass. I felt like sitting down, mouse still in the grass, watching clouds roll past me, getting lost in them. Sometimes I feel them swallowing me up, as though my spirit is not on the ground, but in the sky, and I feel their rain and light, the power they gather on their journey across the world.
Do you feel the sky speaking to you?