Blue, grey, silver, white; <br />Sky can choose, as he so pleases. <br />Whether the temperature be cold or hot, <br />It matters not too much; <br />And within shortest notice. <br />Great Sky can change colour. <br /> <br />Trapped in our skin whatever the colour, <br />Looking outside ourselves; <br />We can live to appreciate each other. <br />At close up, or standback stance, <br />Lunging forward, flitting backwards- <br />The dance of the beautiful humming bird. <br /> <br />Beat, beat, wing beat of the humming bird; <br />Catches the notice of every flower. <br />Petals smooth or velvet to the touch; <br />Of shapes and sizes; <br />Attractive in array; <br />Forming the landscape into a pattern. <br /> <br />This skillfully crafted pattern, <br />Can only be copied by nature; <br />Herself the creator; <br />Aloof, untouchable, original. <br />The model conscious of her beauty; <br />Poised in the nude. <br /> <br />The artist paints her- nude; <br />And lays bare his soul, <br />On that canvas. <br />They stare, and stare; <br />Dumb struck, in the museums and the galleries. <br />He plys the street for his income. <br /> <br />A pitiable sum this income, <br />Stretched to limits; <br />Of mundane living. <br />The spell of quotidian- <br />through a maze of adventures; <br />While the hunter fixes a snare. <br /> <br />An animal in the wild in the snare; <br />Caught, while others remain free; <br />To execute the art of living.<br /><br />Gillena Cox<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/colours-8/
