Dear Sky,

Dear Sky,

How do I adequately address something that I cannot touch although the yearning to do so is part of my soul? Something that fills my mind with the possibility of understanding and appreciating eternity, yet at the same time may-be, in essence…nothing? Whittled down to molecules and atoms a scientist could say you are mostly empty space. I am so grateful I do not possess the soul of a scientist.

For me you are full to bursting with life. Your currents and eddies bear up the slight, frail bodies of my avian friends from the proud and deadly eagle to the playful hummingbird. Bees and butterflies are your friends!

You carry the gift of life-giving water over the whole earth in miraculous and beautiful ways. Having spent my youth in the dry heat of a true desert, I truly appreciate this bountiful gift. How imaginative of you to bring me water in such magnificent style! I anticipate your summer thunderstorms that make me shiver in pleasurable fear as I count the seconds between the dramatic, silent crack of lighting and the following deep, resonant thunder and hard, slanting deluge of rain. It smacks firmly against my face and windows demanding my attention. I give it willingly, and say ‘Thank you’. I wait, in reverence, for the hushed, cold stillness of the first magical snowfall of the season which is enchanted with promises of creative delight: building snowmen, sledding, ice-skating, or just watching the fine crystals fall, drift, and cover the sleeping earth. I long for the fog – such a nasty sounding word for that diaphanous mystery; that shape-shifting entity – it beckons me to come, explore, seek, uncover, and yes…even hide.

There is a reason you are called 'The Vault of Heaven', for within your treasury lie priceless gems. There is the sun; that brilliant golden orb that brings light and life to the entire earth, as well as marking each day of my relatively insignificant life. I turn my face to it often, expecting, and receiving a personal kiss. I’ve collected a host of them on my nose over my lifetime. Next is the moon; that waxing and waning opalescent sphere that dictates the planting and harvest, the tides and times. Friendly and mysterious at the same time as it peeps slowly over the mountains in its varied phases. I love each one. Then, there are the stars; those precious multicolored gems scattered haphazardly across your black velvet vastness. I’m very aware of their significance as stalwart points of direction to the lost and wayward; but I have to admit I carelessly play connect-the-dots with them. And the clouds – oh, those clouds! – shaped by your very breath into mythical creatures and towering castles. They entertain the ever-present child in me as I visualize possible adventures amid your fanciful creations. Hours have I spent in that playground!

From you I have taken my first breath, and to you I will give my last. You are also a witness to every breath I take in between. Did you see me when I danced joyously beneath you in my nightgown on that Indian summer night? It was just you and me and the music inside me. Or was that your music? Do you remember? I do. I felt part of you that night, like I could have been taken up and become one of your precious jewels; loved and cherished. I cried a bit when finally, wearily; I carried myself into the house and to bed, only to be released back to you as I fell into dreams.

I know you are not just mine alone. You belong to everyone because you have always 'been'. You were at the very beginning: "In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth." Your creation was the first act of the separation of man from God. Was it a peaceful parting, or was there an audible, wrenching cry as from a child being torn from its mother? I can imagine both, and have felt both, in my heart. In any case I'm absolutely sure that it was impressive. I'm glad that there is enough of you to give each of us a private piece. For aren't we all children of the Sky?

With much love,

Your favorite child.