Creative writing

A poem from the North York Moors

What is the sky?

Everchanging and expressive,
space and heaven combined.
Infinite and important,
vast desert on high.

Mother Nature flaunting her power,
April showers, hurricanes and storms.
Summoning angry clouds, heavy with rain,
Later filled with light, warming your bones.

Blustery winds and excitable gusts,
fresh air fills and cleanses the lungs.
Billowing clouds, creating beams and rays,
dappled across the undulating land.

Everchanging season casting shifting light.
Rainbows, shooting stars and Aurora Borealis
flashing colours over the great canvas.
Heaven’s glory or natural phenomenon?

Streaked with man’s machines, airplane trails,
aerials, satellites and drones.
Great machines can’t compare
nothing more than flecks on this dome.

Sunrises and sunsets marking our days,
celebrating with glorious colours.
Ink-washed turning to boundless jet black,
encrusted with the finest jewels ready to wish upon.

Westerdale Skyscape. Copyright Christopher Watt, NYMNPA.

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