You come to mind this morning before a meeting
on a bench in back of an old house observing the
most beautiful endless blue with perfectly placed,
deepest pearl colored clouds that I am certain no
June 24th has ever produced, so I write my meditation
of a miracle I know you will probably notice this morning
with both of us knowing better than to try to paint on
either canvas or in words this beauty which all humans
know can’t be contained in any form, yet I seem possessed
to write the deepest meaning I see in this clarity of
limitless space so colorful, as the only way it can be
captured with all it’s full meaning attached, is simply
pointing at it with you, watching and explaining if you
have ever flown, how silly it looks from any jet passenger
window high enough to see the petty man-made
squares and rectangles man has crisscrossed this
vast expanse of some country to try to contain a wiggly
Earth far below and mainly to outline his personal turf
that he knows others will constantly tread on just as
soon as the lines are drawn, when everyone except the
Air Force know no man or beings can possess the sky.
I can only try to somehow point so directly at this
special patch never seen before or again, maybe we
can each look with the same careful attention I am
giving beside you and both together with such undivided
vision that our eyes at once become what they see for
awhile, meaning that for a timeless moment the man
and the woman are the sky, and can any two beings
ever be more free with such little try? I know my dearest
one that somehow without even looking up, you
appreciate this sky this Monday start to Summer
on June 24th, 2002, and all this lengthy note is just a
poor man’s try to specially say the cleche,
“IT’S JUST A BEAUTIFUL DAY!”
/
Uncle Larry Songs and Poems 