Poem Without Clouds
--Stanley Moss
I've had a long friendship with the sky,
blue, white, black, red, grey-- it's moody,
surprisingly adolescent, forgetful.
It has no knowledge, doesn't see anything.
The uncertain sky never learned to spell,
still it's got a miraculous melancholy
whatever the weather. It has always been
my horizon to horizon, entrance
and exit to the universe, constantlly
separating this from that, darkness from light,
falling stars from galaxies, space from place,
separating, separating,
this universe from that universe.
I love my friend, the celestial everywhere,
with or without clouds.
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