a poem: cornflower

Noticing the blue sky above your head
Dotted with puffs of white cloud
Is very cliche
But I did it anyway
And had a revelation
That cliches may be cliche
But what makes them bad?
I saw the blue sky
I saw the clouds
I saw all the way to heaven
More or less
I saw that around the sun the sky was bleached blue,
Pale blue
And pale blue
Around the horizon
But upwards above me, and for some reason
In a spot away to my right,
It was a deeper blue
So blue, like what the crayola people call
Cornflower blue
And it nearly struck me speechless
I wish I had been alone to just look
Forever into cornflower blue
Instead I looked down
And felt the wind on my face
And saw the weeds coming up
Under my mother’s hands
And into the big green trash bin.
Life is amazing.