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The Sky Just Now


by Darryl Price


 

 

has somehow gotten off its swaddled behind and put on your own glass dipped   

green eyes for good measure , opening

up my

own eyelids with softly pushing 

fingertips I might add. But

there could have just

as easily

 

been a tiger

of some sort who's

simply learned to

navigate such

high roads or has

been swept up in

his own floating

 

dream-escape. Who am

I to take the

wild wind's first showing off tag

of the new healing 

day's projection on the latest

cloud around

and give it a

 

regular Joe

name? I've no desire to 

tame the moment life's

leaf turns

itself full into

the sun's notorious plans for world domination,

laughing at nothing in the process.

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