The Cloud that Stirred the Sullen Sky is Gone...

The cloud that stirred the sullen sky

Is gone and where it touched the hill

The blue became so deep until

It brushed the little day awry

The leaf that scuttled o’er the park

Is tucked beneath a silver sash

The quiet night is all a-wash

With snowflake filament and dark

The moments we crushed in the wake

Of footprints scattered on the grass

Are sealed within an hourglass

That none can ever steal nor break

And all the woods are stark and bare

Where not so very long ago

We lay beneath the golden glow

Of autumn falling through our hair

The finger of fir tree and pine

Alone must strum the raven sky

And fill the night with lullaby

To taunt this summer heart of mine

© Janet Martin

It is so still save for a little whispering pine…