On a spindle of lightning twine
hopes and dreams into a
thread of Maybe.
Build a loom of clouds,
their puffy whiteness or sweeping gray
weaving Maybe with a
shuttle of winds.
In a kettle of dye mix
the angry color before a storm,
the periwinkle blue of an autumn day, and
the black depth filled with living stars.
Dip in the cloth of Maybe,
stirring with the spoon of a tornado.
Lift the cloth of the Sky that May Be,
hang to dry,
With a needle of thunder
sew a hem of breezes to the cloth's edge.
With ribbons of faith
tie the cloth to your wrists and ankles.
Step outside and