This is the poem I had started to write in another contest, before I realized I was only supposed to write about the morning sky with mention of dovesl
When night’s ebony is vanquished, the pre-dawn turns slowly into peach. Peach becomes persimmon and pink as scarlet starts to streak the sky.. As I breathe the snowy whiteness of the clouds, the sun shyly peeks out from behind them. Suddenly the deliciousness of saffron shines forth with the hope of a new day. I’m gazing up at a Monet. Day progresses, and at times I view new birds that wing their way through a heaven gone azure. Gradually the azure changes to periwinkle blue tinged with violet hues. Evening is upon us. Apricot slashes through the sky and then it turns a passionate pink. The clouds coalesce into larger white fluffs which trim the twilight like whipped cream on a raspberry pie. Later the clouds become wisps of silver threads as the yellow sun submerges itself into the sea. The pale pearl moon and diamond stars appear - the brightest of them shimmering ice blue from far far away. Sky has become a sapphire sheet blanketing the part of the world that has gone to sleep. Whether night be black or cobalt blue, eventually dawn arrives to vanquish night again. Dec. 19, 2022 For A Brian Strand Premiere Choice No 55 Poetry Contest
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