Billboards flickered in the shadow of morning's light. The sun's rays warmed her even as a chill wind blew her robe and scarf with a soft and constant embrace.

The clouds rolled by in a leisurely and calm manner. Their master was close by, there were no worries. She was unnoticed and simply watching, simply knowing the world.

Her eagle landed upon her arm. He had returned from chasing those few troublesome clouds who had wandered.

The people who built their homes upon her flock hadn't hurt them. They didn't know how. She thought their homes ugly, but otherwise didn't mind them. Even now she stood on the thin pinnacle of one of their constructs with the tips of her toes.

She angled her wide brimmed straw hat to shadow her face from the rising sun as it peeked around the corners of the clouds.

Golds, reds, oranges, and pinks suffused themselves in the depths of their cottony fluff. Bright whites stood out on the edges. Muted greys, blues and purples receded from the morning in the shadows.

She drew her wood flute from beneath her robe. She wetted her lips and the carefully whittled mouthpiece. The wind played the softest of notes into the air as it brushed over the finger holes. The flute carried the sound far and wide to the edges of the flock. It was so soft it was closer to the sound of a stirring soul.

Almost as if it couldn’t wait to hear her tune it gently pushed against her a little more firmly, like a cate rubbing itself against her leg. It playfully flicked the turquoise ribbons tied to flute’s end.

She took a deep breath of fresh morning air smelling of stars and sun. Her fingers held the flute lightly as she began her haunting song.

It began soft, like the greys of the morning sun upon the night sky. The notes swelled and faded to the edge of hearing. The barest tickling of the ear caught its sound as the slow notes were joyfully carried by the wind.

The clouds puffed happily, billowing up higher into the sky in a dance only they and the shepherd knew.

Gently, gently her notes grew. Less were they heard and more were they felt like the throb of a lonely heart.

Birds lifted from their perches and took off in flocks, flying amongst the blocky black and grey buildings basked pink by the sunrise. The birds swirled and twirled to the shepherd’s tune.

Anxious and thrilled for more, the wind spread her song to the deepest parts of the clouds and city. It swelled its volume and rang its notes upon the balcony wind chimes. Like some ungraspable epiphany it tugged at the minds of men and women in those lingering moments the waking and dreaming touch each other.

Her song rose on the air into sonorous notes, filling empty air with a tangible feeling. Those laying quietly in their beds felt its stirring trills and opened their eyes.

The first sounds of their waking were heard. The song ended, petering off into a deep quiet. She stepped off her perch and the shepherd sank into the white of the clouds.

They caught her and she floated through the air with them. The muted noises of people starting their work reached her.

Engines rattled to life, people’s voices echoed against metal walls, footsteps banged on stairs and dogs barked.

In the fog she let herself be carried by a street lined up with shops and stalls. Slowly she and her eagle floated past, no more than an indistinct shadow in the rolling cloud bank. She watched them start their days.

Trays of vegetables, fruits and fish were laid out upon tables. Trucks came puttering up from the surface lands to replenish inventories.

Food sizzled or baked in ovens, their aromas mixing in ever-changing flavors of meats and baked breads. The morning wind had died down to a breeze. It gently offered her a bit of every kind of smell that passed by in view in front of her.

Her mouth watered and she swallowed.

A young boy and girl played about the stall of their father’s shop. The father came out and patted the young girl on the head before he picked up a box from the truck’s shipment. The little girl smiled gleefully and hugged his knee before scampering away again to play with her brother.

The shepherd watched them bounce a ball back and forth. She liked the girl’s hair. It was braided just like hers and the little girl’s hair was blonde and pretty, not brown like her own.

The boy couldn’t resist throwing it harder and harder at the girl, enjoying seeing her try and catch it, only for it to roll away for her to run after.

The shepherd frowned and stuck out her lower lip in disapproval.

The wind couldn’t ignore the fun, it gave little gusts, sending the ball in unexpected directions or lurches in one way or another.

Other children came out to play hopscotch or jump rope. Some other boys played tag.

Meanwhile, the little girl grew exasperated and threw the ball as hard as she could over her brother’s head. He gave her a dirty look and chased after it. After retrieving it, instead of walking back he heaved the ball in his sister’s direction as hard as he could.

The wind gave it a few playful gusts for good measure. The ball bounced against the shop at an angle and it soared over the edge of the city and through the safety nets to disappear in the clouds.

The shepherd’s eagle dove off her shoulder.

The little boy and girl rushed to the edge and looked over the side between the bars of the railings.

The wind puffed their hair in annoyance at losing the object of its bit of fun.

The boy hit his sister on the shoulder. “You threw it too far! You lost our ball!”

The girl’s face scrunched up and tears welled up in her eyes. “You’re the one who threw it meanie!”

“Yeah? Well, I’m not going to play with you anymore!” The brother ran off to join the other boys.

The sister plopped down and cried, tears streaming down her face.

The shepherd’s eagle landed on her shoulder and dropped a ball in her hand from its claws.

The shepherd looked from the ball to the girl. She looked over her shoulder like someone might be watching. It was just her though, far away from her own family tending her flock by herself.

All the parents were inside getting ready for the day. It was only children playing in the street.

She took a tentative step forward, then stopped and drew her flute. She blew a couple trilling notes upon it and her flock gathered around her in a thick fog. She loosened a bell upon the brim of her hat and let it swing freely.

The bell’s clear, crisp sound carried far, its light chimes piercing through the foggy murk.

She stepped forward, the clouds following her. She lightly floated over the railing with the thick fluff of her flock hiding her.

The other children stopped when they saw the thick fog rolling in with a shadow in it. They stared in wonder.

The shepherd paused before setting her foot upon the dirty metal of the street. She tested it with her toe before resting the rest of her foot on it. Her feet made no sound as she walked the few feet to the girl and reached her hand out of the fluff, offering the ball back to her.

The girl stopped crying and looked up to see a smooth, fair-skinned hand holding out the ball to her. The hand was so pretty!

She looked up through a thick fog and could see the dim-lit form of a person. She wore an orange robe and wore a large white scarf. She had a wide-brimmed straw hat on her head. A large bird stood on her shoulder and looked at her with a cocked head.

The woman’s face was soft and kind, her eyes were a sparkling blue and her rich brown hair lay over the front of her shoulder in a thick and loose braid.

The girl wiped her nose with her sleeve and wonderingly took the ball.

The woman smiled, her teeth as white as a cloud under sun. She pulled her scarf up over her face and stepped backwards, becoming only a shadow in the clouds.

The fog drew back and the shadow went with them. Soon, the woman’s form disappeared into the clouds as they meandered by the railing.

The girl stared out at the passing clouds, hoping to see the beautiful young woman again. The other children quietly gathered around her, looking out into the clouds and wondering what she’d been given by the Shepherd of the Sky.

She told them of her smooth hands and beautiful hair and how she had smiled. As she was telling her story she kept looking back at the clouds as if the Shepherd would return. But, sadly, the Shepherd didn’t.

After telling her story the children excitedly ran back to their parents to tell them what they had seen.

The little girl ran back into her house shouting excitedly that the Shepherd had given her ball back.

Her parents smiled and patted her on the head.

“You really like those stories of the Shepherd, don’t you?” Her mother asked.

“They’re not stories! She’s real!” The girl pouted.

“Okay, okay,” her father said, “whatever you say, go on out and play now.”

The girl stuck out her bottom lip and stomped out the door.

The shepherd, watching from within the clouds, smiled.