To most, looking at the sky means little. But to me, it's like looking at an artist's renderings of barnhouse animals or a rabbit chasing something. The sky is a gathering place for stars and the ever-changing shades of blue. The sky can be calm, with clouds as soft as a pillow, but it can also become angry, surging over the calm, crushing it with darkness and the roar of thunder. It moves quickly and with a purpose until it runs out of juice and disappears, sometimes leaving behind destruction and heartbreak.
The sky will make you pause as you look upward and see jet trails and flocks of birds. It gives off a scent as rain begins to fall, sometimes on one side of the street and not the other. It's like a child at times, turning the bathroom faucet on, off, and on again.
At night, when a million stars are visible, we look up and try to understand just how vast the sky really is and how small we are. We make wishes on a shooting star whose lifespan is over, dropping from the heavens in one last ball of fire, soon to be extinguished somewhere around the globe, as it no longer belongs in the sky.
To most, looking at the sky is just something that's there, but to me, it's a place where earth meets sky, and imaginations run wild.
Mike 2026
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