Clouds in the Mountains

Living layers of cumulonimbus clouds pile up against the Allegheny Mountains of Western Maryland, as in the Himalayas during monsoon, shades of white and gray and black, light and fluffy, interacting with each other. This afternoon they may bring rain, or tomorrow.

Peace

The homeless guys outside the soup kitchen got in an altercation after lunch today. Someone must have called Sister Anna Maria (even though the police station is across the street) because before too long--before too many bad words had polluted the air--I heard Sister's voice raised firmly above the rabble. From my office on the other side of the window, I could not hear her words, but she diffused the rancor and shortly I heard conversation and laughter.
On the roadways in India--the Himalayan Highways--if there is an accident or fatality (animal or human), the whole community comes to resolve the issue. If a child or cow gets killed by a speeding vehicle, the neighbors--all witnesses--gather together and decide the culpability and retribution before the police even arrive.
Once when I was quite young, on one of the rare occasions we had a vehicle, my parents were tending to some business and I was waiting in the Land Rover parked on the edge of the street. All of a sudden, the slate roof of the house next to the car collapsed with a crash. One corner landed on the hood of the Land Rover. The neighbors and my parents all came out to investigate and discovered a baby swinging in a  hammock under the corner of the porch that had been caught by the Land Rover. They proclaimed it a miracle--new vocabulary: bachaio = saved. We all raised a collective prayer of thanksgiving.
I grew up and married, and we taught our four kids that they possess within themselves the resources they need to resolve conflicts.