Sky poem


Is it possible to absorb the sky?

To breathe it in like Butterscotch candy,

until you are bloated like a Squirrels cheeks?

Can you come to worship the point,

where the tree-tops tap the horizon?

Wondering with one wistful eye

if your soul would be content as a bird?

Is it fantasy to point your chin

so high you forget to have a face?

Leaning back in the grass,

elbows bent,

as you consider the big blue,

laid out like heaven, in front of you.

Is it possible to absorb the sky?

 

 

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