A hot blue day had budded into something.
I wasn’t ready. The white clouds rearing
Aside were dragging me in four directions.
I wasn’t ready.
I had no reverence.
I thought I could deny the consequence–
But it was too late for that. Sylvia Plath

Sunday sky. I looked up as jets flew by overhead, so I’m not sure what they are.

I wonder…

…if there’s a message in these clouds.

What do you think?