Big sky slides high overhead
racing weightless glowing glaciers
paint dancing aerial spectacles,
improvisational abstract renderings
in white, gray and endless bright blue,
a seductive living Rorschach test
into whose pliant arms are laid
all our most secret self-narratives,
all of the nightmares,
all of the dreams.
There is no end
to tales mumbled by mist;
but whispered just beneath the skin,
under the white noise sparking
from these condensation continents
scratching against the wind,
deeper than all of that,
the oldest story beats
at the heart of it all.
A clear day
is coming.
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