Now it turns as rapid as dismay

The sky is now pale lilac edged with dark
The   trees where small birds sleep are almost black
A mystic may enjoy a vivid spark
Through having senses other mortals lack.

The sky’s more pale than  it is darker grey
I see a pink, a blue in clarity
Now it turns as rapid  as dismay
Until  devoid of  such variety.

And darker still ,in grey it edges down
Until it’s less distinct from those large trees.
But  with my words  to keep me from a frown
Darkness comes and so my words must cease.

A mirror to the outer world in verse
May save  us all from  wintering with a  curse.