Kissing the Sky

Kissing the Sky
I think that kissing the sky would be a lot like kissing dry ice.

Opalescent fumes and wistfully cool water-think: desert parched and an oasis in your sights.

Light as air and relief, and a taste too clear to describe.

- my mind wanders.

But I keep coming back to kissing the blue, blue sky.

And I- a green mountain; white capped nose and lyrical lips, soft as spring day and dew.

Kissing that wonderful blue hue and swallowing what attaches us to the rest of the universe.

Even then, I hunger.

(But what I would give to know what a kiss to a tangible sky feels like)