I have been working on the collection of poetry I mentioned before--about my time in Lebanon. Most of it centers on food. This piece is a bit of an outlier; an experience I've been struggling to convey. I'm not sure I've accomplished it. The story goes that one morning I woke up inside a cloud. Our ancestral home in Lebanon is located in Kayfoun well about sea level. I stood on the balcony contemplating the texture of the cloud until it moved.
Mornings on the mountain when all were still asleep and the sun was just rising were always my favorite. It was so quiet you could hear the sounds of others houses down the way rustling their bedclothes as they woke. I would love to travel back there soon. In the meantime, words will be my vehicle. I hope you enjoy this short piece.
Image credit: unsplash.com/photos/sqKJxvLue3Q
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