to live under blue sky

  to live under blue sky

  is worth the sting

  of too much sun,

  on skin

  in eyes-

  a burden small

  for a place so thin-

  the feeling of wings.

  to live underneath such light

  burns hot, blinds bright.

  death peels itself away

  from my surface taut

  and probably too soft

  for cloudless day,

  but I on my back, in the grass,

  will lie so flat

  on the turning world,

  as the churning inside

  is taught to be still;

  a restless soul

  finding hope in a storm,

  knowing not of the cost

  of being kept warm-

  only of feeling alive.