Sheltering Sky

The sun rising is my eye first opening to a new morning.

Dawn’s red, pink, and orange stretch out from my fingers,

over the wilderness.

My arms now spread over the terrain as flocks pass by.

I blow a cool breeze toward the creek where tadpoles drift.

By noon I am at the peak of my enthusiasm,

my pigment a pure ocean blue.

My hands push through the pines like they’re sifting through sand.

I hug the hills where deer trek toward the valleys just out of my reach.

As the day fades, I start to get drowsy.

The forest animals head back to their discrete refuge,

under rocks or in caves and trees.

My blue begins to darken to navy and black while dusk sets.

At nightfall my other eye opens.

Joey Costello