The sky is damp as a sodden t-shirt
Worn running into a hose
On the green of summer lawns

The sky is grey as a crone's tight bun
Conservative and chilled
Knowing summer's youth is done

The sky is proud as an archaic monarch
Much-loved, and yet much-feared
Intangible, yet all-encompassing

The sky is not friendly
It is not warm
But it is constant
Through summer days
Through greying hairs
Through the tumbling of kings