Taylor T Gray

The clouds, they’re a comin’ and bearing some wrath - looking to displace upon all in their path. Who can see the approach and get themselves set for an approaching tempest bearing electrons and wet? Once caught in the midst there’s not much one can do other than seek some shelter and both smile and stew. Alas it will end, ultimately fading away - be ready to regroup amidst sunnier days.

When on an island or a boat the world is mirrored by a moat which bounces brilliance from space and sky and things in orbit or streaming by

Summer seems so far away when darkness averages more than light of day and the memory of surf slowly seeps away from vibrant color into shades of grey

The moon stands watch over a city below with sky, sea and streets all glistening for show causing the world viewed from on high to appear without woe

Riding the Earth through space and sky while hauling west on I95 under a crescent Moon a quarter alive

Traffic is light with the horizon ablaze, a frequent event that will surely amaze as travelers bridge to night from day

Solid yellow and a dotted white, painted pavement glows fairly bright, giving guidance to get home all right

With the river reflecting a chromatic sky, bridges bisect a river plied as workers wend their way back home in trains or cars beneath a darkening dome

Cracks create a chance for light to forge its way as rays that invite or inspire a dream of a greater good that’s simply waiting to be seen and understood

With steely skies one might surmise the storm is stuck in a murky guise - unrelenting as it makes midday appear as dawn in a warping way

Foamy fingers tepidly tease their way, bearing the remnants of an ocean’s spray; waves softly fade into a sandy demise while mirroring the illumination of the sky

The end of the beginning or the beginning of the end?
A line of clouds does not portend
For the the storm is passed; fair weather’s soon here
The sky beams blue and the air's crisply clear
Rejoicing in what's coming, it's now safe to be outside
And soak up some sun on the next leg of the ride

Etching a sketch in a flight across the sky, contrails scratch cirrus clouds in a fantasy for the eye

Dinghies dallying along a dock, their sails aflutter with poppycock

Pyrotechnic puffs of light punctuate the sky, proffering a temporal treat occurring annually in early July

Mother Nature paints with a wondrous eye upon a canvas of infinite sky

Needing a foundation upon which to convey, she gessos a base of cloudy grey

Striations are sketched with a vaporous pen as darkness wanes into a has been

A pallet is prepared with okra rays from the rising sun that starts each day

Flaming strokes are then boldly made as her dawn becomes fully portrayed

Mortar gray sets a stony sky - the surmounting of which we must strive to try
As gravity sustains many ways long old - spires call for actions bold
Reach down deep and reassess - for reflection emboldens a reach for the best
An inverted view may pave the way - to view the world in a different way

Yet again a beam falls from the sky - it's brilliant ending still fails to belie that ageless maxim from days of old - at its terminus lays a leprechaun's gold

Careening crossly in a blustery bound, cumulonimbi suddenly surround the Sound

Placidity permeates in a morning mist (the result of humidity meeting chilled salty sea) and diffuses the sun as it rises into glory - the perfect preamble to a day soon to be