THE SKY

When your Soul needs to fly look towards the Sky;

A playful Mockingbird’s humor is wry.

Looking at birds up high, my mood spry –

Shy Clouds, drifting across the sky, change…BYE.

Celestial hues fluctuate, wonder why.

As a fae cloud dissipates does it sigh – ?

Leaving Thor homeless, rain fall from an eye;

I’d like to see a Hawk’s nest, but they’re sly.

Meditation’ll get me there, by and by.

If’ I could not “have” the sky, I would die.

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