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Blue Sky
The big blue sky is
 Folded washed and pressed
 Mama even used starch
 With the rusted iron
 Your prairie-girl dress
 And your prairie-girl bonnet
 But you cannot pack the horse
 Or the barn cat
 Or the big big blue sky
 With fluffy white clouds embroidered
 Haphazardly across them
 And the gravestones of course
 Are not needed for anyone's survival
 Neither are the hens
 But even Mama's black church dress
 Will not be enough
 For the ocean
 And the colored flowers
 That everyone says are so much
 More beautiful than
 Your big big big blue sky
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