The Sky Is The Quartermaster Poem by Patti Masterman
The Sky Is The Quartermaster
The sky is the quartermaster
But you are it’s eyes,
Currying favor from
Life’s narrow surprise;
The days of your weather
Arrive fair or foul,
Delivering artifice;
As much as allowed.
I sail in your auspices,
Partake of your airs;
Not minding the skies,
Whether cloudy or clear,
For found nowhere else
Are the things you are giving;
And till your arrival,
It’s not really living.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/14/2026 11:15:07 PM # rel_20260813T193622Z_3aad590
