Early morning’s origin of light,
Pale; softly dozing in slumber,
Ever so subtle, eyes given sight,
Tones ignite in burnt umber.
Midmorning gives another look,
As light fog lifts from the valley,
Smothering into cranny and nook,
Teasing shadow’s continue to dally,
A patch of blue far above,
Moist clouds disappear in dry air,
Lonesome call, the Mourning Dove,
Conditions today seem fair.
Noontime brings the truest blue,
Cumulus clouds, in contrast pass by,
How deep the color enriched in hue,
Only found in a Colorado sky.
Evening falls upon the peaks,
The sun shall set once more,
Glowing light cast on the creeks,
Beckoning on, can’t ignore.
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Colorado Skies by G.R. Gaus )
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