The back-drop of this little day
In molten medley melts away
Cloaking the land in muted folds
Igniting creeks in pinks and golds
It leaves no imprint on its stage
This ether turning of a page
Where we have spilled our earnest thought
And thrilled to taste its vapor draught
In ethereal font the Artist spreads
His Majesty above our heads
The grail of deeper hues held high
As He imbues the gloaming sky
Divine ignition of the deep
Before this day is lulled to sleep
And it will never wake again
A new day wafts on lofty plain
The backdrop of this dying day
In flaming farewell fades away
Fold over fold, blue, amethyst
It slips into a shroud of mist
© Janet Martin
I jumped on my bike realizing suddenly that we were missing some 'good sky':) Approx. a mile up the road I can get a great view, so sometimes its a race against the sun to get there!
Beautiful and soothing:)
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