Poison!

We were strolling back up the block early in the morning, baby Athenula in my front-pack and my brown-bag, deli breakfast swinging in hand. We passed Saint Markella's Greek Orthodox Church, and, just after, a priest greeted us from across the street, "How are you!"

"Good morning! I'm well, thank you! How are you?"

"Good, good--" He stepped quickly across the street, black robes a-sashay.

I turned so he could get a good view of the baby.

But he passed Athenula over quickly. Instead, he turned me with his one hand at my shoulder and pointed with his other hand toward the sky. "Poison!"

He looked at me carefully, with his full beard of tight, gray curls. "Today is not a good day for a walk."

I looked where he was pointing.

He continued, "Those are NOT God's clouds. God's clouds are round and fluffy." He shaped round and fluffy clouds in the air with his hands.

I looked back at the sky. The clouds were long and wispy ('cirriform', it seems). "Oh," I said, processing. The corners of my mouth snuck up in a smile. "Always?" I asked.

"Yes," he replied, in earnest.

Then he abruptly made the sign of the cross over us. "God bless you."

"God bless you," I replied.

And he was gone.