one day, that sky will tell you to seek not
attempts at resolution
of cloud shapes moving with the dawn
toward a pair of eyes
absently sketching glances
across circling expectations, to see not,
but childlike grasps at truth,
attached to strings,
carried up by breeze streams
lightly flowing into sight,
like bristles of a plucked dandelion set free
to conquer moment over moment into stillness,
scattering with breath,
along a train of thought,
captured in underdrawings of a portrait, etched
for tomorrow to unsee itself in being presence,
glowing in the shadow of today.

(inspired by the sounds of ‘Blue Sky, White Clouds’, by Jon Opstad)