Sky

Idle times engaged with sky

The vast membrane that looms up high

Like a lung trying to breathe its own

Air

I stare

Into the punctured gaps

Filling with untold beasts

on imagined maps.

See there, like the ears of the hare,

It becomes like a T-Rex mouth gawping

At the blast wave, about to end its lineage.

And further on, the dog

Sitting patiently

For scraps of the Master,

Losing cohesion, just another

Window broken

Now.

What will that vast

Blushing meadow

Up high with its dove tail white

Mingled

With ticklish pink become?

Its hidden the sun

Which has

Finished its run

For the day.

Tomorrow?

Will it cover in grump

And mood everything,

nothing but a white shell

Uncrackable?

I long for its greatest gift

When

Running on empty,

Clouds on vacation,

It births the most crisp thing

In all creation

A blue

Bright

Cool

Winter

Morn.