7:20 in the morning, as the colors are still sharp,

but not sharp as a sword nor dagger,

No.

But as sharp as the colored no signal bars on an old 90’s TV screen.

No Signal.

That is how the colors make me feel.

How strange? As I stare at them, I begin to feel light

headed towards the clouds, to where the color has reached them,

now,

7:30 in the morning. As my phone pings the first distractions of the new day,

yet my eyes stray away,

only fixated on this lovely array,

on this cold 1st month’s day.

7:45 in the morning, as I begin to see things more clearly now.

I witness the epicenter making its morning debut, turning all shades of pastel hues into vibrant blues

7:53 in the morning, as I said my final goodbyes to the colors I once knew, I welcomed something more familiar, something we all can agree on

A staining, deep calming, blue.

Shone through the cracks of the blinds to my window and greeted me with a familiar “Hello.”

8:01 in the morning, as the golden crown raises up into the sky,

and takes strides to its’ higher up throne,

putting all other colors to shame.

With the steps she takes,

She melts residue of last night’s past party,

pulling off the thin white blanket it gave as a parting gift.

8:23 in the morning, as the naked frostbitten tree swings its first sway.

And the crown?

Why, she has decided to fray away!

For the wind’s toll was too much for her.

She was pushed.

Discarded.

Stolen away by the clouds.

The wind’s henchmen, so I was told.

Yet, hidden is the light, not in plain sight, she now paints the sky with a blueish gray,

A Yellow Band,

She signs off with.

8:45 in the morning.

As the sun’s last dance flairs to an end, yet her claws marked in the sky, shone up high for all to see. And from sea to shining sea, all is calm, all is gray. For when the sun is away, the wind, the clouds, the sky all come out to play. And while the colors shone nice, they like the sun, must run, in preparation for the dance of a new day. The dawn of the new day. A time where we all will get to see this thing where our eyes first meet.

Oh, this beautiful array,

On this 1st month’s day