Love story for something higher

The sky is vast. She is temperamental and ambiguous. The sky is one of my favorites because, like people, she is constantly changing. In the morning she is clear as if it is open to starting over again: she welcomes the world with another chance for a good day. The blue hue makes the world calm. She is relaxed. But at any given moment her mood can shift releasing a dark, tumultuous cry. Why does she cry, I wonder? Is it that she cannot be seen by the bright lights created by those whom she towers over? Is she sad? Or is she just a sky. Imagination, perhaps, makes "she" from "it". Whatever. Whoever. Today, there is beauty above.