The Subtle Beauty of Missouri

Ah, this Missouri, this land of the big blue sky - I needn’t lose it, needn’t forget it, it is being tattooed onto my identity with every moment. The sky is indeed big here and you wonder how it feels, you don’t want reality, you want to touch the fabric where the blue is kept, you wonder if it is rough-smooth like canvas painted this amazing impossible colour or light as silk or soft like cream. Ah, blue sky and below, the winter grass, the warm colour of straw – it is for me the colour of the number seven, and I love seven, and somehow it has a perfect sort of symmetry for me that three, the number of God, is green like fresh summer grass, and in the winter seven, the magic number, takes over. Nestled in this gold are rocks, here and there, grey as the Baltic sea or as those eyes we can’t forget… and rising above to link roots and sky are the trees, some with their dark and naked branches glimmering and highlighted by sunbeams, whose depth seems impossible, profound, that, moving the view changes with every second revealing such complexity, and others covered in their piney evergreen… My Missouri, ah, I love your subtle beauties.