Cloudslide

The sun ricochets into our bedroom this morning, bouncing all over us. The sky is split in two. Upper strata of a mid to light grey sinks down over a still pool of blue. I watch the slow cloudslide while poaching two eggs and brew coffee. Boy drops his dinner coins down the side of the sofa, and needs assistance to venture into a crevasse of dog hair, reminding me that at some point in my life I might need to do some housework. I wander outside to see the sky without a glass barrier and clear thoughts of sofa detritus before sitting down to enjoy breakfast. Boy leaves for school, striding the lane under the last stripe of blue. I observe the dark-dipped sky. Expectation says this is how today will look, grey-shaded, but the cloud doesn’t stop sinking down into the blue, leaving just a few bits bobbing in a late afternoon sunspot.