Traveling all day through Montana, then just into Idaho, and again
thrilling to the display of skies.
I thought of Wendell Berry; I don't know why
and found this short sky poem by him
What We Need Is Here
Geese appear high over us,
pass, and the sky closes. Abandon,
as in love or sleep, holds
them to their way, clear
in the ancient faith: what we need
is here. And we pray, not
for new earth or heaven, but to be
quiet in heart, and in eye,
clear. What we need is here.