Cloud Drifts...

The sun is shining, lighting up the wood and the field. Sitting here at my desk, I can see successive bar codes of cloud shadow, like waves, racing down the hill towards me. They are doing about 60 miles an hour. The window darkens as they reach the house, and I can swing round and watch each one career on down towards the village over neapolitan ice cream slabs of field; mint grass and chocolate plough. When they meet the trees in the valley they should pile up into a great, soft shadow drift, where you'd need a torch and a hat that came down over your ears...