Riddonkulous

I stretch without edges and hold without hands, A canvas of endless, where light softly lands. I wear crowns of white when the morning is new, And drape the world in gold before sleep claims the blue. I cradle the sun and I guide the moon’s path, Yet I cannot be touched, nor held in a grasp. Birds carve their stories across my wide face, While clouds drift like ships in a silent, vast space. I am home to the wind and the whispering rain, A quiet, deep presence that shapes every scene. What am I, so near yet above all we see, The boundless, warm blanket that wraps the whole earth?