At 5am, the sky as it is, holds too many stars and possibilities for the day; the darkness makes me trip over my own feet.
At 7am, the sky as it is, Willie Nelson should be singing,... blue skies, nothin' but blue skies do I see, bluebirds singin' a song...nothin' but blue skies from now on...
At 9am, the sky as it is, sun's been burning and the neighbors have set their parakeets in cages out on a round picnic table, the umbrella down.
At 11am, the sky as it is, swirls of dead leaves and grim clouds announce the arrival of what might become a grey day.
At 1pm, the sky as it is, would make Van Gogh weep and reach for crow black, a canvas and a paintbrush.
At 3pm, the sky as it is, sprinkles icy holy water on school children walking home behind a woman carrying groceries and a baby, blanketed in yellow.
At 5pm, the sky as it is, you never know what purple or red palette the sun will set but it will always be in the west.