“South Carolina Sky”

“At least twenty big cumulus clouds hung above the hilly horizon like a fleet of otherworldly dirigibles. The clouds shadowed the earth beneath them and Skylar stopped walking, rapt by the stark contrast between the celestial and terrestrial worlds. Above him the endless sky shone clear in ultramarine at its zenith, then in cornflower, delphinium, and pigeon blues as it approached the horizon. The swollen airships had underbellies of pearl-gray shadow. While the clouds were miles wide, they looked light as the filaments of a dandelion clock. As Skylar stared at it, the sun formed first one, then two concentric fireballs around itself before dissolving into a dazzle that blinded his eyes. Sunlight gave life and glory and hope to the cloud-ships and even to the empty welkin. Whereas the sky was bright and hopeful, the earth seemed to hunker down ashamed of its heaviness and shadowed half-light. The dentate evergreens in the distance forests whispered dark secrets of primitive rituals, of stealthy and raptorial attacks. To the northwest crouched low, smooth-edged, jasper mountains: lying in wait like couchant beasts. Even in the fields of wild grass and rushes Skylar could feel the density and limitation, the hushed, darkled lumpishness of the earth.”