The cloud belonged to nobody.
This was widely accepted.
It was simply the nicest cloud in the sky.
Exceptionally soft.
Suspiciously comfortable.
One afternoon a young sheep climbed onto it.
Nobody remembered seeing the climb.
Everybody remembered the nap.
The sheep curled into a perfect circle.
Its breathing became slow.
The cloud appeared pleased with its decision.
Several other sheep looked up.
They agreed that sleeping above the weather seemed like an excellent hobby.
A rope was located.
Nobody asked why the cloud had one.
Such questions usually delayed progress.
The first sheep climbed enthusiastically.
It smiled almost the entire journey.
The second climbed with remarkable determination.
The third climbed because the second looked confident.
The fourth climbed because everyone else appeared to know something important.
This is how many adventures begin.
Halfway up, someone wondered whether the cloud had enough room.
Nobody stopped climbing.
Optimism often travels faster than mathematics.
The sleeping sheep yawned.
One eye opened briefly.
It looked down.
Then it closed the eye again.
Apparently the reservation had already been made.
The others continued climbing anyway.
They decided waiting politely beneath the cloud counted as visiting.
The cloud seemed satisfied with this arrangement.
It quietly became one sheep larger.
Nobody noticed exactly when.
Livora Gracely 
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