The incoming tide of ragged clouds
Moves across the morning sky in
Un-oceanlike slow motion.
Yet it pictures perfectly the ebbing flow
Of Earth’s twice daily sea change.
Muted purple against the pale blue sky
With tattered edges like warn out satin,
With thin spots and splitting at the seams
That are wispy and pulling apart.
It makes its way from right to left
As I sit beside my morning window.
What good thing did I in my youth
That I should earn such beauty
As the purple fades to lavender
And the blush of pink begins.
The mottled tide move slowly on
In ever changing visions
That promises serenity
And not the gloom of rain.
In 1946 musicians called a sky
like this “Ole Buttermilk”
And wrote that phrase into a song
That topped the Hit Parade that year.
It’s blossomed in my mind since then
Each time I see that array of clouds.
ljm
Apr 25
Apr 25, 2026 at 12:38 PM UTC
The incoming tide of ragged clouds
Moves across the morning sky in
Un-oceanlike slow motion.
Yet it pictures perfectly the ebbing flow
Of Earth’s twice daily sea change.
Muted purple against the pale blue sky
With tattered edges like warn out satin,
With thin spots and splitting at the seams
That are wispy and pulling apart.
It makes its way from right to left
As I sit beside my morning window.
What good thing did I in my youth
That I should earn such beauty
As the purple fades to lavender
And the blush of pink begins.
The mottled tide move slowly on
In ever changing visions
That promises serenity
And not the gloom of rain.
In 1946 musicians called a sky
like this “Ole Buttermilk”
And wrote that phrase into a song
That topped the Hit Parade that year.
It’s blossomed in my mind since then
Each time I see that array of clouds.
ljm
Another Laughlin sunrise