Grey Cloud Vista Poem by (c) Colorofsky

While vision views a Grey Cloud Vista,
its charcoaled shades splashed there and there.

A stray raindropp falls, falls on an arm,
another sprinkles through the air.

Up above the swallows glide high aloft,
seemingly chasing invisibility.

Then glide away, wafting the currents,
perhaps for morrow to see.

A rumbling of man-made thunder,
sounds along the hills below,

From vehicle, machinery, 'tis assumed,
there is someplace that it must go.

Then higher up from swallow flight,
thrums, hums the aeroplane.

Like a metal bird hanging by string,
its noise mixes with sparse rain.

O mind, O thought, thought and mind,
an orphic Heaven so divine,

How do all create, imagine,
this fragment, piece of time?

With heart and time, from sweat of brow?
Powers Higher than Human?

How do all these things come to be,
under this grey cloud-filtered sun?

Under a grey-clouded canopy,
under a grey-clouded cloudy haze,

have the loves of benign spirits chosen,
To bequeath some truth today?

'Tis it perhaps rash to infer,
Perchance reckless to concur,
that this day of life, of great and small creature,

Comes from a Heaven Divine,
unto heart, thought, to mind,
to create this moment, this Grey Cloud Vista?