Did I ever thank you, Father Sky,
spread far around like an open field
piled high with moods and structures,
a playground for my soul?
Your face above bids my thoughts expand
to climb the heights of an anvil-cloud
and teeter on the edge of a dazzling glare
or slide down the shafts of the sun,
To swim to the center of your lonely blue
where I find no mist to hide me,
and lie exposed to the western wind
like a mountain braced for sunrise.
Or clad in the shroud of brooding gray,
you coax me to musing
far removed from the minutiae
that chains me to my life.
I search for light and openness
to shadow the bonds of earth,
exploring the vault of heaven
for its meaning and its truth.
Thanks for this cathedral speaking glory through its art,
For opening my eyes, admitting Sky into my heart.
© 2015, poem and photographs, Priscilla Galasso, All rights reserved
