Processional

by Mary Wescott Riser

Often, but not always,

I watch the clouds outside

My window.

Sometimes, but not always,

I don’t notice them.

Murky at dawn, the sky

Does not clear so much

As resolve into dollops

Of cloud, processing across

The royal dome of the

Earth’s ceiling.

Another day, a spill of gold

Beneath the palest silk,

A nebula, disintegrates below

The endless blue.

One morning, grey tufts

Drift along, bumping on the buttercream.

Keels heavy with rain rush over.

A ragged edge of continent

Slides past.

Broad skim of spider web or

Trailing corner cobweb

Dangles, fragile.

Daubs of flamingo pink

Heat the Eastern sky.

A quilt of bossy chevrons roughly stitched,

A riverbed of cobbles flows unstopped

Through hairy moss,

A shred of pebbled skin,

So much is made of water, light, and mind.

* * * * *

Mary Wescott Riser worked in Virginia independent schools for 30 years, most recently as Head of School at James River Day School, a K-8 day co-ed day school in Lynchburg, Virginia, where she served as Head for ten years. Mary received her B.A. in English and Philosophy from Georgetown University and her M.F.A. in Poetry from the University of Oregon.  She writes the education blog “What’s Best For the Children?” www.maryriser.org. Mary and her husband, George, live in Covesville, Virginia and have two adult children.