Clouds

I am sitting alone in a field of wild flowers, not caring to get my clothes full of brown earth or grass. I let myself slide on my back and just  start searching the sky above me for a play of clouds.
Funny creation of shapes that keep forming constantly, once it will be a face, other time you can make out a straight line, or even a mountain of fluffy small and large clouds running up and down and around. Clouds full of water and menacing my search, others are just there looking at me and wondering why I keep searching for that special  and particular cloud. In the far distant field, soft and melodious sounds reaches my hears and my soul, is it a cricket or just a cicada, no it's a robin trying a few musical notes, fluffs up his feathers and starts his repertory. Is he calling her mate or his young ones, is he communicating with his friends or just trying  to scare away his enemies, unfortunately I do not speak his language and to my ears it sounds so strange and maddening for not understanding should I take lessons or should I just ignore it and just wait for someone to come & translate it for me, but by then It will be too late, the clouds will be gone, the crickets & cicadas will have gone to hide and the robin flies to his young family and I will be left alone in the field of wild flowers just wondering what I missed....