Just a painting brush makes strokes
With dark blue color in the sky.
Grey clouds make intentional arrival in the dawn
Wind circling over sea, nine hundred miles’ away
The sky never owns darker shade in its skin
Blue is simple, beautiful in its own prettiness
Even a child can see it and sing a song of beauty
That needs not extra freshness with color shades.
It is dawn; patchy colors give some signals of storm
Crust of the earth does not reflect sunlight,
The sky needs no favor, it shows the truth.
Some enrollment of weather’s new product
Just begins hovering over either near or at far,
We will face the catastrophe, swinging in the sky
As if a painting brush paints darker
Side of the nature’s summoning.