The Sky Keeps Changing Poem by Lacie Hebert

Morning skies are painted gold, 
Then silver, gray, and dark and cold.
Storms arrive without a sound, 
And leave without asking around.

Yet nobody looks up and cries, 
Demanding permanence from skies.
We understand the weather's role.
We know it changes. That's the whole.

But when our lives begin to shift, 
We treat all change as if it's theft.
Perhaps we'd suffer half as much
If we remembered life is such:

A sky that's never meant to stay
Exactly like it was today.