The Sky at Winter
If Peace was a color
It would be the sky
At winter
Sapphire stone, distilled
Poured out and into
the bowl of creation.
Lit from behind
From the flaming fires
Of a million years before
Flickering still
On the deep side
Of the universe
And from the orange sun
Long set
But still simmering
Hidden behind the hills
Toasting the edges
Of night.
If Peace was a color
It would be the sky at winter,
Waiting
While we gingerly
Step within footprints
Long embedded
Into the frozen ground
The sky at winter
And the wind
Lifting the edge of our collar
Leaving the slightest scratch
A feather weight, really
Whispering in our ear
Peaceā¦
Pulling the thread
Daring us to turn
Desiring only
That we look up.
