Blue-Stained Skies

We beat back the long grey clouds stretching out

coating the tops of our skyscraper world

and put down hard blankets of the deep chill

reaching through the flat-light afternoons to earth.


Long hours long nights long roads long horizons

November-February skies mix

together into mate tombstone paintings

until time strips away mistakes in paint.


coats put down for the darker times buckle

under the weight of the calendar wind

long days, long songs, long lights come pouring in


Spring drenched sirens come to call away grey

birds pull back winter curtains from rooftops

and we throw up the blue-stained skies again