Elizabeth Madox Roberts reminds us that wonder isn’t lost — it just waits for us to look up again.
Elizabeth Madox Roberts
I saw a shadow on the ground
And heard a bluejay going by;
A shadow went across the ground,
And I looked up and saw the sky.
It hung up on the poplar tree,
But while I looked it did not stay;
It gave a tiny sort of jerk
And moved a little bit away.
And farther on and farther on
It moved and never seemed to stop.
I think it must be tied with chains
And something pulls it from the top.
It never has come down again,
And every time I look to see,
The sky is always slipping back
And getting far away from me.
Reflection:
Elizabeth Madox Roberts’ “The Sky” captures that moment when a child’s curiosity touches infinity. What begins as a passing shadow becomes an awakening — a simple act of looking up. The poem unfolds in pure wonder, noticing the movement of the sky as if it were alive, chained, and gently tugged from above.
Through a child’s eyes, Roberts reveals something adults often forget: the world is always moving, breathing, and beckoning us to notice. The sky doesn’t actually slip away — we drift from it, buried in busyness. The poem invites us back into the mystery, reminding us that awe isn’t naïve — it’s sacred awareness.
Each time we pause to look at the sky, we reawaken the part of ourselves that still believes in wonder, movement, and unseen hands that keep the universe in motion.
Question for Readers:
When was the last time you stopped, looked up, and simply felt wonder? What did the sky say to you in that moment?
