Look Up

the sky’s the thing in morning, not 
brown and winter-killed grass 
crisply crunching underfoot 
nor other walkers, their frisking dogs, 
that orange school bus idling at the curb. 

let go the world weight of war and loss, 
news of death descending in predawn darkness 
through emailed newsletters 
and iPhoned alerts. 

the sky’s the thing: look up! 
after days of fog and gray, 
here comes the sun again 
silhouetting trees 
against this day’s whitening, lightening 
brightening blueing dawn.