Ode To The Sky

Azure,

       You are so beautiful in the Summer morning

as the first fingers of sunlight streak across the horizon,

or when whispers of stratus gently scarify your vault,





or at high noon when, in the desert heat, you are totally unblemished,

      or when at twilight you change like a chameleon,

mackerel and nimbus basking in your reflected glory,

or when distant skeins row their effortless way across the horizon,

or when the stars of evening come into being

        as if for the first time,

and when the broken clouds curve upwards in perfect arc,

stained by the setting Sun, 

a promise of some rare, new world far beyond.





Azure,

       You rouse me from my melancholia,

that even the most miserable of men

with eyes to see can enjoy your splendour,





that even the most wretched heart be moved

     from loneliness and sorrow,





that even the most rational of minds

     be struck dumb

        with wonder.  



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