Jet, cracked paint, tea

The clouds take a little blue from the sky

beyond, how beautiful the weather makes life

seem. The sky is where the soul goes when

the mind runs out of destinations. We love

the mountains because that's where the earth

meets the sky. If you just watch the sky

an hour each day, lie back in the grass, 

you'll never be ill. When it rains your face

becomes a holy bowl. Once I was a beggar, no

cares, by railroad tracks. They too disappeared

into the sky. A small town you could hold in your fist

on the prairie. A big city easy to hold in your mind

when you're in the sky. The clouds take a little blue

from the sky. The sky takes a little blue from your soul. . .