The Transition

I saw the blue skies turn fiery red.
Maybe it was love… maybe it was fright.
And clouds, that hold cool rains or cold storms,
That wipe out life by over-abundance.

I saw the blue skies turn fiery red,
And then turn blue again.
I saw the blue skies become windy
And blow the clouds, that held the cool rains.
I remember the wind blowing the clouds,
First slowly, then increasingly fast,
Building up to an uncontrollable force
That couldn’t be checked by life.

I remember that windy blue sky
When it was as calm as a breeze
That checked the fiery red skies,
And reached a medium
That was subtle, and sweet.

© B.Michael Hunter 1976


Leave a Reply