when the wind swirls and around mountaintops curls
no one knows how patterns grow as the wind will always flow
down ravines air careens
pushed or pulled in patterns full
of meaning for those who wonder
who owns the sky
the sky is seen across time or dreams as limitless open space
meaning derived or arrived by happenstance in each place
by effects of interminable wind, blowing up or down again
half way down or half way up never clearly seen
except askew by the few who can see in between
sometimes seen as gates of heaven
moving life forward mystically like leaven
who owns the sky
the wind like breathe of God comes down
shaping space, then clouds, then ground
moisture gathered up above
comes down as snow or rain like love
to bring life’s beginnings or push us on
every night then every dawn
each day or evening like the ones before
buffeted in movement or in lore
though each day uniquely given
events or legacy somehow driven
blowing, swirling, whirling spaces
shaping or renewing faces
of land, or rock, even mountains moved
by wind and sky until it is proved
who owns the sky.
