The sky I know skims along rolling mountains
plummets over rocky precipices
plays hide and seek between
jagged stands of pine and fir.
The prairie sky far from my familiarity
lies flat upon it’s back
waiting for golden sunlight to
wash around it like a warm bath.
The prairie sky settles cosily on beds
of freshly tilled soil, sprouting seeds
and earth tone carpets of grain
like memory foam mattresses.
The prairie sky bubbles up in vapors
from a tabletop richly laden
with voluminous imagination rising
unbounded like a forgotten yeast dough.
The prairie sky prepares for sleep
as rosy streaked duvets wrap
farmyards winking on a vast horizon
a lunar flood light casting comforting shadows.
The prairie sky without a start, without an end
It’s expanse following me home across
majestic peaks, arboreal greenery
to valley bowls where it feels contained.
The sky I know is stretched out by my God
who covers the world with a canopy
like an airy canvas tent to live under and
gaze into, together with my prairie friends.