Poems about the Sky

The first of the poems about the sky is aptly named BENEATH THE SKY. It is about the truth of the fact that wherever you are on earth -- we all have the same sky.

BENEATH THE SKY
Every where you go on Earth
you stand beneath the sky.
From China, France, to Zimbabwe,
the clouds go drifting by.

From Canada to Florida
the same sky’s mostly blue.
From the Arctic to Antarctica
the same is always true.

It’s just one of many things
so absolutely fair.
No matter what your place on Earth
the sky is what we share.

by Denise Rodgers
Copyright©Denise Rodgers
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Poems about the Sky:
CIRRUS CLOUDS

If you look it up, you will see that there are many types of clouds. Cirrus clouds, which often look curly, are made of ice crystals that twist and turn into curled strands. 

CIRRUS CLOUDS
Cirrus clouds
are curly clouds.
They curl against the sky.
And if the wind is whipping through
they slowly sail on by.

by Denise Rodgers
Copyright©Denise Rodgers
All rights reserved.
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Poems about the Sky:
STRATUS CLOUDS

If you live in Michigan, like I do, you will often feel like you can barely see the sky as it's covered with a gray quilt. These are stratus clouds, and often accompany misty humid days. When out walking in my favorite park, I looked for the sun on one of those days, and there it was: glowing (but definitely not shining) through the stratus clouds. 

STRATUS CLOUDS
Stratus clouds are quilted clouds
In somber shades of gray
on overcast and colorless
humid misty days

If you pine for sunshine,
well, everybody knows.
The sun is hiding way up high.
It doesn’t shine; it glows.

by Denise Rodgers
Copyright©Denise Rodgers
All rights reserved.
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Poems about the Sky:
MIDNIGHT SKY

If I didn't have a dog (I've always had a dog), I wouldn't likely be walking at night when the stars are out, and sometimes the moon. On a clear night, you can see the clouds, but they are still beautiful and magnificent. This poem is about one of my walks with my sweet cocker spaniel, Rosie. 

MIDNIGHT SKY
The sky at night Is midnight blue
with clouds of speckled gray.
The darkness gives an awesome show
that we can’t see by day.

Far off lights are twinkling.
Are they satellites or stars?
Or bursting suns from eons past
that show up from afar?

Scientists can tell us
what they are – and how and why.
But me, I’m simply dazzled
by the midnight blue of sky.

by Denise Rodgers
Copyright©Denise Rodgers
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Poems about the Sky:
Hand of Michigan

This poem reflects another true story. I was driving to work. (Yes, I have a job that has nothing to do with poetry. On the other hands everything has to do with poetry.) Just as I pulled into our parking lot, I truly saw the lower peninsula in the sky. It was the shape of a cloud. I pulled over, not waiting to completely park. I pulled out my phone. And as the poem suggests, I missed the opportunity of a fantastic photo. Keep your eyes on the sky. You never know what you might find. 

THE HAND OF MICHIGAN
I saw the hand of Michigan
fluffy and white.
An awesome sight.
I reached for my phone.
I was alone
with no one around to share
this sight beyond compare.
But…
by the time my phone was set
for my very best photo yet.
(it was less than half a minute
to get this picture in it.)
The cloud had drifted apart,
a piece of movable art.
Now made of two pieces
like sheared sheep’s fleeces.
It was neither, it was nor.
It was Michigan no more.

by Denise Rodgers
Copyright©Denise Rodgers
All rights reserved.
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