THE SKY

The sky, youthful
At dawn, just before sunrise
The aged moon recedes in demise
While the day and the living arise

The sky, placid
Calm and lavishly tranquil
Casting warmth over the globe until
The hearts of earthlings with pleasure fill

The sky, mottled
Splotched with grey-white cotton balls
Positioned in the heavenly walls
Like works of art on gallery halls     
  
The sky, alive
With phantoms in ones and groups
And dismembered beings in gaily troops
Conferring and balancing like troupes

The sky, glaring
The sun as a fiery hearth
Glowers intensely at the lame earth
Yet makes food for man even in dearth

The sky, cloudy
Dark patches lining the west;
With age-old thunderbolt at its best
Pours rain till the rumblings come to rest

The sky, golden
The even sun crowns the day
Shaping twilight shadows long and gay
While clucking chickens soon roost or lay

The sky, star-full    
With countless sparkles it teems
Occupying the heavens with beams
Visiting from outer space it seems

The sky, starless
The moon is hiding indoors
Just as spookiness, like a knot, moors
A child, wide-eyed, with fright to the floors