Welcoming Sky

a sonnet

photo by William J Spirdione

There are times that the sky will call us home.
Look up, it’s sunlit blue will speak to you.
It’s beauty stops the eyes that tend to roam.
The pink tinged clouds, the faintest softest hue.

Twilight falls, on melting ice, in still air,
Drip, dripping water quiets restless mind.
Up reach vines and trees their branches bare.
To the sky’s last clouds, sinking sun will find.

Don’t know how long one’s eyes have been looking,
It doesn’t matter where one’s looking from.
Not a care if one is on safe footing,
What has been done or what is to become.

Savor slowly this fine feast for our eyes.
Please don’t forget to look up at our sky.