The sky has never
been so blue.

Is it its milky shade--
that makes me gently shake
my head, and smile at the open field
of snow-covered grass?

Is it the wisps of clouds?

The way they drift across the pale sky
that makes me jump back and cry
with surprise at the pretty bird
that emerges from the clump of snow?

And so I snap
my fingers and sing.

The blue sky above has never
been so whole. It has never
been so nice. It has never
been so clear...as to what I should do now.

So I whip out a sharp knife
from the kitchen drawer, and
I walk back outside.
Then, with shaking hands,
I hold it the knife out in front of me,
and I carve a piece out of the sky.
Then seeing that I did it out okay
I sighed.

Then I went inside.
Took out a white box.
Brought it outside.

“Ode to the sky!”
I sing and throw
the sorrowful box into the hole
that I had carved in the sky
and it was swallowed.