Castle: Haven’t seen you in a while. It’s been a windy few days, hasn’t it?
Cloud: Yeah. How would you know, though? I don’t think you’ve moved an inch.
Castle: What can I say? Man made me strong. I don’t have to take nights off, either.
Cloud: (bristling) Hey! Just because you can’t see me doesn’t mean I’m not here.
Castle: That’s true.
As night falls…
Castle: Cloudy? Are you still there?
Castle: I thought you might have blown off by now.
Cloud: I don’t think the winds are favouring the east coast at the moment.
Cloud: What’s on your mind?
Castle: I was just wondering…..how do you do it?
Cloud: Do what?
Castle: How do you manage to exist as a metaphor for so many things? I mean, I know you have a silver lining, there are at least nine of you, and you’ve amassed an astonishingly large collection of heads.
Cloud: Ha! You forgot about me being a bad influence when I brood darkly and hover near the horizon.
Castle: I like when that happens, don’t understand why others don’t.
Cloud: (shrugs) Eh. Some people’d prefer if I didn’t exist, so they can savour the sun more. Others, or the same people at a different time, really look forward to the times I bring rain. I’m sure farmers do. And there’s probably a perfume in honour of my heavy hours- with the sweet scent of Petrichor.
Castle: I bet there is. I’m jealous.
Cloud: You do a fair amount of metamorphosis yourself. What’s the matter of the day? Sand? Glass?
Castle: It’s stone, actually. But, thanks for asking. We do a good job as metaphors, don’t we?
Cloud: Of course. You ever wonder how we’d work together?
Castle: We can always find out.
And so, with a wobbly foundation, amidst azurean mist, the first castle atop a cloud was built.