The Shadows Poem by Jerry Pike

The shadows are pretty this morning,
volunteering their colours up top,
for their resident job as a decoy,
from where beauty has set up her shop.

There are waterfall greens, overflowing,
into cascading ivy and rose,
below butterfly trails strewn to heaven,
ultravioletly hiding their glows.

There's a french blue from Manet reflecting
why the sky wants to sing with the birds,
but its really just thoughts on a grey day,
visualising the glory of words.