Battle Of The Skies Poem by Mary Champion

Spring skies are oft times fresh and blue and bright,
the waxing sun, shines warmer ev'ry dawn.
But sometimes tar black clouds blot out the light,
as if the whole of Earth has need to mourn.
They may bring snow or rain or stinging hail,
soft April showers ousted by their rage,
resurgent winter rides in on the gale -
some freak of nature loosed it from its cage.
And yet, be sure, the power of the sun,
intensifying to its summer peak,
will soon atone for all the damage done
and fall on wasted winter, now grown weak.
So blue translucence wins out over grey
as April slowly ripens into May