Painted Sky

When I looked outside my window There was a man painting snow I asked him "Are you friend or foe?" And he laughed and ran away In his hand he had a paintbrush In the other, a painted pail Running up onto an invisible rail He leapt up to the sky, hand outstretched high. I saw his brush strokes trailing black I cried, "Stop! Don't do that! I don't want today to end I have chores and things to mend" Once more his laughter came And he drew out a gnarly cane Dipping the end into the pail And left silver stars in a trail Then he used his brush again Curving a line to meet its end Forming a moon that was gleaming I am certain she was beaming Then the man ran once more And through the black he tore Leaving a silver stream of light behind As the words, make a wish, echoed through my mind