Naked arms extended to heaven
resembling monks of infinite patience.
The scrawny trees waiting the ravens
missing the joy, enduring the silence.

The bluest blue the sky can wear
the coldest breeze of cleanest air.
Whim genius artist who painted there
the purest white the eyes can bear.

The king of stars with dimmed power
hidden behind the hills and meadows.
The queen of night rules longer hours
dresses the field on fearsome shadows.

The time will come to end your blue
your dark realm made of white silence.
The sprouts of life are coming through
beneath your blanket, thriving with patience.