Both Sides Now
So I’m sitting on the bus into town, mostly awake, but not awake enough, sipping my coffee, strangely perfect in it’s shiny blue thermos travel mug. I don’t really mind the ride into work. I sometimes mean to read, but usually the waking up world is far more fascinating.
The light is gentle on the old ladies dashing to the mailbox to collect the morning paper in their comfy old bathrobes and fluffy slippers, thinking somehow the thousands of people travelling down Great North Road won’t notice them. Maybe, just maybe I’m the only one that does. I must find out.
This morning the light was soft on the clouds, illuminating them, so they glowed. And as I was admiring them, the radio playing over the bus’ sound system played “Both Sides Now,” Judy Collins’ version of the Joni Mitchell song. I sang along softly, hoping no one could hear. They are not all wearing Ipods. I thought about this photo as I mouthed the words:
Bows and floes of angel hair and ice cream castles in the air
And feather canyons ev’rywhere, I’ve looked at clouds that way
But now they only block the sun, they rain and snow on ev’ryone
So many things I would have done, but clouds got in my way
I’ve looked at clouds from both sides now
From up and down, and still somehow
It’s cloud illusions I recall
I really don’t know clouds at all
Those clouds looked nothing like these clouds. I think these are the other side of clouds. Evening clouds, full of heaven clouds, spicy cotton candy clouds. It occurs to me clouds are probably my favourite subject, so photogenic – and they never complain.