As night's grizzly crown falls
to the rite of light's way
its servant sun unlocks all
dawn's turreted gables,
azure disposes of shawls
and warmth augments the first rays
as day pierces prisms in dark vault.

But mist gathers to veil
heaven, shrouds my cottage walls
and shuts every windowpane
until grey covers morning
with shadowy swirls of dim change.

What happened to the tuned chorus
of promised blue I thought would stay ?