PLAY # 17: The Little White Cloud That Cried

Characters in the play:

1) A little white cloud, amiable, articulatre to the point of garrulousness.
2) A winter tree, leafless and bereft

Floating home from his dialogue with the timorous Thel (see Brief Candles # 15), that play’s Little White Cloud has somehow snagged itself on one of the branches of the Winter Tree.

CLOUD:  I can’t move.  You snagged me in your branches!

TREE: Just in one branch.  And I didn’t snag you, you snagged yourself.

CLOUD:  Well, however it happened, I can’t move.

TREE:  Why don’t you just dissolve the snagged part and regroup when you’re free?

CLOUD:  I would, but I’m feeling more….well, unified than I ever did before.

TREE:  Unified?

CLOUD: More dense.  I think I’m changing.

TREE:  Into what?

CLOUD:  I’m feeling creaturely.  Maybe I’m becoming an animal.  A cat maybe.

TREE:  You’re beginning to look a bit like a cherub.

CLOUD:  Well, I suppose if I have to turn into something, a cherub would be okay.  At least I could still float.

TREE:  Indeed you could.  Look on the bright side.

CLOUD: But how can this solidifying have happened?

TREE:  Well, I’m neither a tree-surgeon nor an arboreal psychologist, but I think it’s possible that a tiny bit of my residual sap somehow entered your cloudstream!

CLOUD:  I do feel warmer.

TREE:  You see?  Yes, I think you’re becoming positively corporeal!

CLOUD:  It will be harder to move about.

TREE: Oh yes, considerably harder.  (he smiles the warmest leafless smile he can muster)  But it will be so lovely to have some company.   We can talk.  We can reminisce….

CLOUD: Reminisce?  About what?

TREE:  Oh, I don’t know…leaflessness in my case and unfettered drifting in yours.