Cumulus Congestus

I watch the children play at my work during recess. I watch them run and chase and play on the jungle gym. They often make trips to the drinking fountain and I think about what it is that they've lost and what they're replacing it with.

Water, in both cases, beading up on their noses. Falling in large drops from dirty strands of uncut hair. It lands in the sand between and among the myriad of footprints. I watch their sweat evaporating out of the earth and meeting the clouds high above.

I think about the three forms of water and realize the sweat falling from my brow. I too am in the clouds.