The Sky As They Do Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Dandelions in a basin of light with
Purple and blue ants fighting each other:
Dandelions as soft as the lips of tourists underneath
Commuter airlines;
Or girls who are transforming for them so high up
In the clouds they get nose bleeds that float upwards like
Red tinsel:
And the clouds are svelte beneath them, each continent
As whimsical as a soft picture in a glass;
And afterwards they lay there exhausted with their hands
As open as mollusks hanging over the brim
Of the sea;
They dream of themselves as saltlick and they wait lustily
For deer to come traipsing out of some verdant glade
That isn’t there:
To touch them softly with their tongues, as if they were
Rivers themselves, rivers of soft young bodies reposing
In the sky as they do.