I Feel The Sky

I look out my open window, where a whispering breeze moves a fresh scent into my home. The air is silent, even as cars hustle outside. And the blue sky is not a blue of sadness; rather, its light color pulls my eyes to it, where I rest my gaze. Even if I were sad, I wouldn’t be able to feel it today, and I can’t change the weather. I feel the sky. 

On days where the sky matches the color of the wet pavement as I walk with my head down. I jump two feet first into a puddle on the side, because I wore muck boots today. The lightning lets me see glimpses of the darkness around me; and the rain drops on a tin roof make me tired, but relaxed. Today is a good day to relax. I don't feel bad about closing my blinds and listening to the blues. Something that would feel disrespectful to a sunny day. I feel the sky. 

Each day the sun goes down, its last rays wave goodnight. Whether the clouds act as a lamp shade, capturing the light; or the clear, once blue, sky allows the sun to stretch longer. And each night the moon reminds me of my height; and the stars look back at me. My eyes close in time and the stars seem to have found some rest, too, by the time I have woken up. The sun comes again as predicted. But today, a sunrise sets fire to the day as I stare, tired, early in the morning. To match the show I put on some Bob Marley. I feel the sky.

The heat that burns my skin in the summer is cooled in time. The skies, now littered with flashing colors of leaves in the wind, remain quiet. Then those leaves turn brown, sheeting the grass before a blanket of snow is laid out next. A hood gives me tunnel vision as I walk, once again, with my head down. Not in sorrow, but in shelter. The hood not only narrows my focus, but my thoughts as well. And I get rime to think. I feel the sky. 

All Blue by Luke Bell