Where bare branch
they congregate, gossips in tree tops
as the moon sets
quarter drained. Continue reading
If I were the sky
I’d reach into the furthest
reaches of self. I’d find my center
from which to reach out.
I’d expand and contract, bend
all the colors of the rainbow.
I’d be the greatest
sculptor of light. I’d be god’s painter
and spread deep yellows
like butter on dusk, I’d coax mellow mauves
and chase my storms. At night I would
cradle the moon
and spoon planet mars… I’d fling bright stars
into swirls and arcs. I’d always be high.
I’d never come down.
I’d never need space to keep me around.
If I were the sky I’d know my worth
If I were the sky I’d make Heaven on Earth.
Richard Rensberry, Author at QuickTurtle Books™