To Marcy Howard

A sunset fills the darkening sky,
With colors and dark black clouds,
It seems an artist’s brush has made,
The sky somehow look proud,
A clouds dark edges show contrast to,
The colors across the sky,
And in the seemingly painted hue,
Beauty assaults the eye.
As we look at nature’s hand,
A storm is slowly born,
The sky it seems, changes its clothes,
And the colors that its worn,
The storm approaches pushed by wind,
While rain begins to fall,
Lightning flashes across the sky,
Yet is serenity its call.
The sky then takes another pose,
Lit by a silvery moon,
The moon illuminates fleeing clouds,
And if we wait we’ll see stars soon,
Sometimes if we slow our pace,
While using our eyes to see,
We notice things in a different light,
And the sky proves this for free.



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