Glancing out our western window, toward the Ocean beyond some hills,
I see, near sundown, a layering of assorted clouds, like alternating color spills;
shades of gray this November day, plus white, and some almost resembling amber.
It makes me imagine a playing field over which winged-angels might clamber.
I took some photos to show my wife and now the scene has changed.
A dark gray streak is beside one forest-fire orange. Clouds are also rearranged.
As more time passes, whatever remnants there were of blue sky disappear,
and light and dark grays and almost-white stand alone……, as sunset is quite near.
(Nov.2012)
A beautiful poem on near sunset. Like that of an expert photographer, your eyes have captured the scene in all its loveliness, and you perpetuated the image through your camera lens! A celestial scene where you imagine angels of heaven clambering around! Though lacking your usual humorous air, it has a special beauty!
Clouds...sky...different colours, shapes, shades. I love clouds. And a very descriptive poem. I hope your wife liked the photos. George
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Bri, Inclusion.., not a sin. Sometimes the I's have it. QtR