three a.m. thunder left behind, hours later morning sky on fire
under the same sky we are taught to believe that it is different
we pretend as if the sky is undecided it’s indifferent
between sky and earth sunlight teases the water but never touches
living on the edge of a vast prairie, the sky gives a sense of home
there are some mornings you wish you could touch the sky stop; let it touch you
when dark clouds roll in the evening mood changes it could get severe
the contrail will fade same as the scars we carry leaving little trace
uptown jack 