Sunlight dances o'er the clouds,

her rapture's spent but she's not proud,

her glow will come up, like anew,

as the sky's newness with blue.

Thunder claps as if to roar,

but it's his laugh, a noisy bore,

a redundant but necessary

thing that rouses motion's ferry.

Feel the Raincloud cry on us,

so to wash out all the dust

and grime and funk we hold within,

let the Ocean process in

His absolute and perfect way,

regardless of how we may stray

in mistreating Nature's blue gods:

fostering within the cause

is love that's blue and perfect true ,

like the Sunlight's story rouse.

Written by Rose Loya 2008