The clouds drawing pictures
on a tapestry of land.
Distorting but not destroying
the beauty that's at hand.
The suns lending light,
To a perpetual eye.
The land lending colors
to make this temporal sight.
The land throws in contrasts
to an ever changing hand,
but it's entreats go unnoticed
like critics to a masters plan.
For when the day is finally done;
the sun tiring of it's show.
The sky will show the land true art
and a beauty that it rarely knows.