Infant tufts cascade across the ultramarine swathes above the mountains. These are softer and more playful than their grown-up counterparts. Less concerned with delivering precipitation and happier to enjoy their play mat of sky. They have oodles of room too with all around giving them a protective cocoon in which to enjoy their first few sunsets and letting them simply respond to the salmon-pink rays.
They roll and merge with the other young ones, enjoying their each other and their new beginnings as everyone should. That ability to simply respond is the aim of most mature minds, yet is so hard to attain once our unconscious is weighted down with concerns of the conscious.