The Sky Is My Garden

The sky is my garden. By day, wind tends rows of clouds or scattered birds. By night, stars blossom above the zinc-colored mountains. They say that this--Montana--is "Big Sky Country," but that is not near enough to explain things. In the heat of summer the sky ripples and spurs warped ravens across the prairie. At minus-twenty the whole of sky sparkles and the ice on the frozen lake below my house cries and moans. Clouds lift. Clouds drift away. The sky is a moving garden.

--Mitchell Hegman