Sky
Blue, like the Mediterranean sea,
When it’s cloudless a bright summer day,
Darker when clouds are appearing within,
Until the grey days pass away.
Darker still when there are storms building up,
And the clouds soon releasing the rain,
Invisible when there is mist or there’s fog,
And the brightness not there to retain.
Dark as the evening turns quickly to night,
Clear as the stars twinkle bright,
The moon clearly visible out into space,
Until dawn takes the place of the night.
The dawn is occurring in the early hours,
Determines what colour we’ll think,
Cloudy and grey? yellow orange and bright?
Or beautiful shades of deep pink?
Birds forming the picture, the background the frame,
The horizon lit up like a lamp,
Cos under its spell cast o’er fields and hills,
The walkers are starting to tramp.
If warm enough night-time spent under the stars,
If not, in a bag in a tent,
Awaiting the line to appear the next day,
Confused where the former day went.
It may be encouraging, maybe it won’t,
Set sail based on what it suggests,
Warm heat or quite cloudy or thunder and rain,
Our decision on what to do rests.
Sometimes grey and dingy while other times clear,
Looking up, make out symbols up high,
It’s never our judge or our jury,
But look up and our guide is the sky.
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