Leaving Gently

Each morning as I wake my eyes will seek the sky be it blue or heavy overcast my spirit lifts in flight - to behold the natural world is a miracle of being when I reach my final hour let the light touch my skin no shadow’s cloying weight give me a room bathed in sun or a view of rain quenched earth trees flush with living green let it be an ordinary day familiar as I’ve often spent with nothing overwrought - a bird may cry overhead perhaps some errant clouds like me passing out of sight.