The Sky

The sky is spilled water
on cotton rag paper,
a swirling eddy,
a bowl of cerulean paint,
a bright seed
of translucent color.

It obscures
and reveals
our logical thoughts
mixes a synonym for truth
with a word meaning joy.

It inspires
the calligrapher’s brush
to makes simple gestures
a cluster of trees
or trumpeting
cranes.

It pulls us away
stretches
like reaching
on tip toes
then jumping
and jumping
out further.