What to do While Sheltering-in-Place
I’ve taken to cloud monitoring. Sad days when there are blue skies. It’s mainly the movement. Big old chunks break off from bigger chunks. Flail here and there in slow motion. In silence. The edges are full of detail as they threaten to interact with other edges. Sometimes they mingle and seem happy. This goes back and forth. At times it’s like great superstates battling. Like the Orwellian Oceana, Eurasia, and Eastasia, the battles are at the edges of empire— Vietnam or Afghanistan. Other times it’s like a great silent seduction. Once in a while they take a leak on me. Other times their orgasms echo though the skies. None of this is Zeus or Odin. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve not gone ‘round the bend mythic or evangelical. It’s just that they are wonderful and I’ve not noticed since I was a boy on the ranch and had flopped down in the fresh green wheat stalks and looked up.