Blue sweeping across the heavens, a felt curtain;
Grey streaks, like wisdom’s kisses on old heads;
Silver faintly peeking through the curtain of blue –
The eye of the Father, watching his children through the falling night.
Brown framed in wizened fingers of worn wood;
Black spearing skyward, starkly scarring the clear horizon.
Green tufts popping up, unruly as child’s hair;
Tan frosting the tufted carpet with dry wisps;
Russet curled in gentle grasp, gracing the green –
The hand of the Father, reaching down to caress His earth goodnight.
This is the poem that started the whole RGT series. I was sitting outside a little church, staring into the evening sky, and ideas about color started popping into my head. I started playing with word and word length, and this is the result.