After hours teaching
to the room & the zoom
simultaneously,
a break. Mask off. 

Not enough to log off. 
It's past time to get out,
leave the room, the building,
touch grass, and then

look up. Remember clouds? 
I had underlooked them
for years, apparently.
The covid spring

(G-d forgive me) revived
that wonder passing by
each day all day. Clouds, man.
There's something there.

Striations, combed hot air.
Pillowed bright eruptions -- 
grays blues whites hybriding
before your eyes,

often dramatically,
always surprisingly.
And every now and then
when you need it

(and sometimes when we don't)
they swell, sag, and open,
pouring down on all life-
giving water.

Written in community with VerseLove, a group of mostly educators writing a poem every day of April (National Poetry Month). The prompt for today: Write a love letter to a place.