We humans think ourselves,
Walkers on the planet's dry surface,
Creatures of the land
And yet,
We call the crab and the lobster
Creatures of the sea,
Though they walk the ocean floor,
The wet surface of the earth.
Are we not, therefore,
Creatures of the air
Who but shuffle our feet
Over the surface of terra firma?
We need intimacy
With the sky
Or we die.
Even the miners,
Who toil deep within
The bowels of the land,
Must carry with them
A cocoon of air
To survive.
Farmers think themselves
Toilers of the land,
But today
Their eyes scan the heavens
Searching for the rains
That will save
Their crops.
So we stand
With the sky
Around us.
We walk
With the sky
Around us.
We sing
With the sky
Around us.
And many times
Each minute, we
Breathe it
Deeply within us.