cloudy night - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
The road is midnight under the cloud, yet beyond is the dawn. As the sun sets, its rising is already promised to the land, to the green shoots who wait in faith. And so, even though our eyes may only see one step at a time, we stride on, eyes wide. For when this passes we will be as children, giggling at the imagined monsters that once kept us in such fear.
Another cloudy night rolls in covering the last of the twilight sky, as if the blackness failed to come fast enough. The rolling grey rapidly becomes as invisible as the stars it conceals, but the air still feels humid. The low sky imparts a claustrophobic tension and the only thing to do is seek shelter and sleep it out, hoping to wake to the sound of rain...
The stars in the sky were nonexistent, as between us arose puffs of gray. Those balls of cotten seen during the day shifted into streams of gray the color of ash and soot. They blanketed the sky, hiding the full moon in it's full glory behind them. But the moon fought, oh how it fought to shine it's light on the earth. But the clouds stretched over the sky, giving it a hazy ominous feel.
An hour ago the sunset had radiated across the cloud, turning it molten orange with bands of pink. Now it is gone and I sit under the starless, moonless sky. There is no twilight, only blackness. I feel claustrophobic, like I am in a cave. The low sky has become a ceiling of grey black rock above. Only the wind and the first drops of rain let me know that we are in the open.
It was still raining as we walked down Harvey's road and the sunset was now long gone, leaving us only with a starless sky. Puffs of grey cloud had swooped into the air like an armed patrol and had surrounded the moon from all sides. There was nothing more that it could do but sit and wait for itself to be completely engulfed by its attackers.
The sky is a negative image of its daytime beauty, midnight blue with clouds swirling like spilled black ink in water. In the daytime the clouds are so brilliant, so pure white, that even the palest of sky is the darker of the two...
The cloudy night brings a twilight feel long before the sun is ready to set. The colours of the forest become less bright, as if we're viewing them through dark glasses. The breeze has a dampness to it that wasn't there a short while ago, it's cooler and fresher too. It won't be time to stop and make camp for a few hours yet, plenty of time to daydream and admire the heavens above, brilliant shafts of light bolting through the ever changing cloud layer.
The cloud above swirls like the last of the dirty dish water going down the drain. River doubles his pace to a near run, swirling cloud is never a good sign and given the failing light it makes it even more important that he reaches Willow soon.
The cloud fails to blanket the sky, instead it is sporadic, chaotic in where it chooses to be thick or sparse. In the gaps the sky has darkened; the clouds are no longer white or paler grey, instead they are blackened shadows that shift with the wind. There are times they move just enough to reveal the full moon, but for the most part this night will be without the benefit of her silvery light.