A Day Like Any Other

poem

They are repainting the crosswalk lines on the day of the eclipse.

Kids gather in the park to stare at the covered sun. But it is cloudy. So they stare at their phones.

I notice a monarch butterfly arc a wide parabola below the El track at Wacker and Wells. I read somewhere that their population is down twenty-seven percent from last year, which is scary if you think about it.

My father emails me an article about how not go blind while taking pictures of the sun (but I can’t read it because I had deleted the news app on my phone).

My father sends another article. The preview has a photograph. A weatherman sheds tears over the eclipse.

Weeping weatherman. Ridiculous, I think. But actually I’m a little jealous.

How wonderful to greet the world and find the divine in a cloudy day.