some days 3

Some days you have to walk through the sky to get to the mailbox.
The porch is enshrouded and the air is wet on your skin.

Some days the very same sky hangs just above the trees
creating a low ceiling that seems to box you in even more than the fog.

Some days the sky is white with consistent thin, high clouds.

Some days the sky is completely clear and the blue color of a ’65 Chevy pickup truck,
but stretched tight and flat high overhead.
They name crayons after this sky.

Some days the sky is round and clear and rich and so
deep that it is an ocean floating just above the house whose sandy floor is leagues above.
On these days you can simply let go with your feet and fall into the blue, stirring the wispy clouds, and look up at the earth and wonder what kept you there so long.