A great nation of clouds lolling above us. Out of fear, I love every branch of our government. It’s not faith but doubt that every day supports the weighted sky’s deep blue from falling flat on top of us. In the balance the clouds hang, shifting, teeter- tottering, precarious. Glance close, glance quick, but don’t stare. Our childhoods are annotated, our marriages, our loves, our failures, our solitary, effortless deaths, by the sky, the clouds sifting through. Awaiting exceptional moments of squalor and beauty beneath, again and again. God, I know what you are. I just don’t mind.