Words of The Lamb magazine

Are you the only blue sky left,
You patch of infinite cornflower hue
That gleams amid the surging mass of blackness?
Are you all the blue?

That summer leaves, surrendering
Her loneliness to Autumn’s dawn
Of gray and rolling sky-swept clouds?
One patch, and soon you will be gone.

And yet when peaceful skies of June
Ruled o’er the dozing sun-soaked earth,
With tranquil, piercing Heaven’s blue,
I did not recognize your worth.

Now, you alone are what remains
Of all that wealth of sapphire rare.
In Autumn’s sullen racing sky
You are the only summer there.