The sky is steel
Without variation
Like a mythic Alaskan fish
Circling the world
At the far edges, where the horizon crowds with buildings and winter trees
Only there can I see
Lighter blues, hints of pinks,
Clouds like coiled rope
Is it heavy with snow, this sky below which birds are wheeling black like wind-tossed winter leaves?
Will it release, with a sigh, as a lover feeling whole again, reunited at end of day
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