I used to scan the skies
Anxiously, like a sailor
Who has seen too many storms
Eyes a fickle-looking cloud or three.
On any given evening
You could find me watching,
Leg bouncing out the very rhythm
My heart beat in those tempests.
And I did not do so foolishly.
Many and recent have been the gales
That would seek to overwhelm me
And drag me down to the deep.
But something has changed of late.
I watch the sky, and do not fear.
I see the clouds and marvel at their color,
At their undulating shapes.
The storms come, and they go.
Yet I remain.
I now read the sunset sky,
Breathe the evening air,
Settle in for the night,
And sleep.
(Photos taken by me, Sept. 4, from the roof of my apartment building.)
Always look to the sky for direction like the sailors of yore using the North Star.