One solitary puff of white

against a pure blue sky

appeared on a day when 

nostalgia grabbed me while

driving along the James

River where I used to 

stroll. With windows open

so I could hear the water, 

I drove past the Z-dam

which used to enthrall

my grandchildren and 

by the river rocks which

were so often filled with 

the young who joyfully

offered their bodies to 

the sun. Memories of

bygone years when I

lived a stone’s throw

away inundated my

thoughts. And yet those

years are barely a 

blink in the vastness

of time just as that

small cloud is lost in the

limitlessness of the sky.