How The Sky Is Blue Poem by Robert Rorabeck

The bicycles gone by everyday from school:
Telling of their littlest of selves across the bridges
Leaping across the heads of water moccasins:
The jewel-sized grottos, the bats
And frogs strung there like the strangest of garments
Drying in the darkness of housewives
Who have slipped across themselves to sleep-
And these are the words inbetween the homeopathic
Motes of their lips:
These are the hummingbird canoes looking their
Own ways while the otters make love, and the
Truants pass off fireworks absent of holidays:
And everyday is here, glistening, touching one another
And praising how the sky is blue.