Which Sky

Someone's flower rests high up against. Back to earth here to there are butterflies. Young man looking up at the clouds. Which apple tree touches her sky? Which sky? That sky, that sky pointing up he replied. The big dippers handle is all that I see. The moon cups the ladle, I feel the breeze. The petals from the apple tree fall to the ground. Over there across and down from the field. Where green grass on the lawn is not showing. Your eyes look surprised, at all the fallen petals that come from the appletree.