Trinidad Ca 2008 BK Photo |
Sky
I like you with nothing. Are you
what I was? What I will be?
I look out there by the hour,
so clear, so sure, I could
smile, or frown--still nothing.
Be my father, be my mother,
great sleep of blue; reach
far within me; open doors,
find whatever is hiding; invite it
for many clear days in the sun.
When I turn away I know
you are there. We won't forget
each other: every look is a promise.
Others can't tell what you say
when it's the blue voice, when
you come to the window and look for me.
Your word arches over
the roof of all day. I know it
within my bowed head, where
the other sky listens.
You will bring me
everything when the time comes.
---William Stafford
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