Sky Poems 1

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Cloud people, gathered on the hills, standing close together

Discussing when to march toward town, and change the local weather

They look so soft and gentle, yet should they drift this way

They'll come with thund'rous voices, and incite a stormy day

I've always liked to watch the clouds, against the deep blue sky

And taken comfort, as they churn and boil, rising high

Threat'ning, spreading wide atop an inky flashing base

The blue sky rises higher still, all the way to space!

So it seems with much of life, turbulent and strange

Order that we long for, riven by the winds of change

Somehow, if we could look beyond the storm, we just might find

A calm and tranquil bright blue place, lying close behind

I looked up at the sky above

And saw a soft white mourning dove

Drifting far above the ground

Making not a single sound

It fluttered not its lovely wing

Nor turned its head, as if to sing,

But crossed the sky in silent flight

Such a peaceful morning sight

One cool morning, fog rolled down

The tree-cloaked hills, and into town

Along the river, silent, crept

Before the sun arose, and kept

The woodland creatures fast asleep

Til dawn illumined Lover's Leap

A beacon rising through the mist

The first sun of the morning kissed

Winter night, a country road, an icy drive

Passing silent fields and trees, mile after mile

Hov'ring in the sky above, ancient, and alive

Just above the hills, a moon, and a smile

Beckons me ahead, with a pale soft light

Listening, a patient, caring ear

With me on this cold, lonely night

Far away, but in a heart-sense, near

And when we reach the end, I park

My car, and head inside

The moon stays out to watch the dark

And silent countryside

"Goodbye," I call, without a word,

"Sleep tight, my friend," unsaid

The moon nods "thank you," voice unheard

From far up overhead

By morning, when I'm finished there

And headed home, I see

The moon has left and gone somewhere 

To wait again for me

Oh smiling moon, oh happy friend

I'll wait to see you, too

'Til nighttime drive brings me again

To spend more time with you!

The gibbous moon hung warmly, where it lit the nighttime sky

Hanging like a fresh-baked biscuit, golden brown, up high

Or maybe like a yellow pat of butter set to spread

Across that toasty biscuit, or a toasted piece of bread

Of course, it also looked like lovely, well-aged cheddar cheese

Waiting to be fixed upon the forks of roadside trees

Or maybe just a scrambled egg, frying in a pan

Slightly sizzling, taking on a healthy kitchen tan

Oh rocky orb, scarred and cold, why do I fantasize

About a biscuit, crease and fold, before my hungry eyes?

Buttered, with some cheese beside, up in the clouds somehow...

Goodbye, for I must head inside, and sate my hunger now

The moon set in the east, as if the Earth's old clock had broken

As some old wizard's magic incantation had been spoken

It set upon the ridge and disappeared behind a hill

And in the dark that cloaked the fields, I felt a

sudden chill

Supernatural is fun, like moonset in the east

Fun and rare, like magic spells, and flying one-horned beasts

But even though I love an explanation of that kind

Some thinking brought a different explanation to my mind

Most nights I drive north and south, along the river valley

But this night I was driving east, along a gravel alley

A hill loomed up, and as it did, the moon appeared to sink

And that is how the moon set in the east (at least I think!)