A Sky Worth Noticing Again

Remember the days
when you could lie on your back
in the lush glades of green grass,
deciphering castles and creatures
as clouds rolled by—
big, billowing, random masterpieces
painted across a sky of vivid blues,
radiant whites, soft grays,
and hues that blushed into pink,
orange, even gold.

The sky itself was the show.
A dog licking an ice cream cone—
no, a baby reaching for a flower.
A hippo on a bike,
a turtle with wings—
the circus of creation,
always shifting,
always alive.

But something has changed.
The colors have dulled,
as though a filter has been laid
across the heavens.
The clouds—thin, lined up,
conformed—
no longer dance,
no longer surprise.
Manufactured.
Counterfeit.
A sky without wonder
is a world without awe.

I say—wake up.
Look up.
Notice.

Call it out,
and slowly,
the real sky returns.
The bright, wild,
God-painted sky.
The one where His brush
still streaks across the blue,
where the breeze is alive,
and faith is breathed in
with every cloud-shaped miracle
that drifts by.

These photos are my own—taken by a lover of the sky, a reminder that the heavens are stitched into the fabric of our being.

Sk-

Woven in the Fabric

☁️ What do you see in the clouds today? Share your thoughts—I’d love to hear. Let’s remember the wonder together.

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