Off-Blue Sky

So I asked the sky, who responded in a nettlesome voice, “that’s Sky, capital S”, “what makes you special, I mean all those photos, paintings, poems and descriptive phrases?” and they replied “first of all, everyone’s got it backwards, it’s not Earth that holds us in place — we’re the glue holding that glob of rock and dirt together — Earth hates that reality. In fact, we stop her from rolling down the astral bowling lane right into the Sun — which would leave humanity twisting and popping like bacon in hot cast-iron. We secure her in endless pirouettes, like a baton twirler on the varsity squad. And those show offs, the Oceans, they steal their color from us, okay, exaggeration — though mostly true. But is there anything that unites people more than the sight of us in a cobalt dress — I mean I’m everywhere from Tierra del Fuego to Greenland, as are our blushes — yellow to crimson sunrises and sunsets? When Earth harangues, I turn cloud-grey and tear up — when exhausted, fog arrives — but anger brings the purples and greens of tornados and typhoons.

I’m really much more sensitive than I seem.”

Gary D. Grossman
Medusa’s Kitchen 1–25–23