Summer Sky

Summer Sky

There is nothing quite so perfect
As a Colorado sky
In the morning, when the air is cool and clean.
From horizon to horizon
It's a bold, impressive blue,
And no cloud of any measure can be seen.

But then later, come mid-morning,
With the sun well overhead,
And the undulating valleys bright and warm,
Floating vapors start to gather
Just above the mountain crest,
And the soft and misty clouds begin to form.

Now it's noon, and storm clouds gather,
Massive towers in the sky,
White and gleaming as they billow high and grand;
With their undersides aburden,
Moisture laden, pearly gray,
And below, their giant shadows on the land.

Time moves on, the sky is blackened,
Now the day grows cool and dark;
Lightning flashes, thunder echoes all around.
In the heavens, clouds are opened
And the rains begin to fall,
Pouring life-producing water to the ground.

Only minutes, then it's over.
Once again, the air is clear,
As the thunderhead rolls onward to the plains;
And against its passing darkness
Gleams a rainbow, arching high,
Adding glory to the welcome summer rains.

Yet there's more, for now it's evening,
And the scattered remnant clouds,
Hanging thinly, like an awning in the West,
Form a canopy of color,
Gold and purple, flaming red,
As the sun descends and puts the day to rest.

After dark, a final splendor,
Lightning dances in the clouds,
Though the distant thunder now is but a sigh,
And above me, stars uncounted
With a slice of silver moon ­
Colorado, how I love your summer sky.

© 1993, Darrell Arnold, and included in Cowboy Poultry Gatherin'