If I Were to Paint the Sky
I would start at night.
At the darkest hour,
With no moon.
I would slam black paint
Onto the empty canvas,
Jabbing my brush
Across the bottom edge.
I would let the tears dry,
And then I would add stars.
Brief, fleeting glimmers of hope,
Slowly erasing the darkness.
Twilight creeps into dawn,
Rich mauves fading into dusty pinks
As the sunlight kisses the open, green fields.
If I were to paint the sky,
I would start with the creamy blues
Of a snowy winter morn,
Thin white clouds drifting by.
My footsteps crunch
In the freshly-fallen frost,
Quickly erased by dashing snow.
If I were to paint the sky,
I would paint an indigo thunderstorm
Over roaring waves
And salty waters.
A ship is tossed among the strong currents,
Unable to stay balanced on the turbulent waters.
Far too often, dreams sink
And we are drowned in reality
If I were to paint the sky,
I would start with the fresh robin’s egg
Of a summer day,
With lazy rivers and the dull hum of insects.
I would paint a blueberry pie,
Cooling in the open window of a cottage,
Bees and ladybugs resting on the sill.
I would paint a basket of wildflowers,
Hyacinths and daisies, honeysuckle and blue violet
Plucked under the blistering sun
Which shall soon fade into a hazy evening.
But if I were to paint the sky,
I would first paint
The cornflowers that grace
Your shining image.
-Lila Page, freshman
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