I look up and I see… The sky and same old same old, gray and gloomy, glimmers of dirty gold, and shades of muted blues. 

And I see… The sky affects us all. From east to west, from rich to poor, from high to low, it does its work on us. 

And I see… That it does as it pleases. It dances, billows, glides, screams, flutters, sings. It is an active tapestry. 

And I see… That I have no power over it. Maps and models, balloons and drones, towers and blimps I have and still I cannot move a cloud an inch. Still, my car is in a ditch, my skin stings from the cold, my house shakes in the wind. Still, my life must detour from time to time. 

And I see… That all I can muster is a plea. All I can give is goodwill. All I can get is what I’m given. 

And I see… I am powerless. I don’t have control. Hunched over with my maps and balloons and models and blimps, I am human.