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.
