Cumulus clouds float the blueish high skies,
Drifting on prevailing winds, measureless
In their sweep of the arc of gentle days :
Clouds, birds, flowers, and sunshine's warming ways.
Never still, though silent, wakes to morning's light
Seeking balancing hours of dark to light,
Which comes twice every year in spring then fall,
Days we call - Equinox - twelve hours of each.
Unheard prayer in modern day homage
Sanctifies ancient's worship of equal.
Not, why equal happens, nor how it does;
Our forbears accepted the fact as change.
They learned feeling, feelings unlike cloud's sweep,
The length of days could be felt, then measured.
Rotating while at an angle to the
Sun, the Earth's axis tilts birthing seasons.
After (Ides Of March / Equinox) then Spring,
Summer, Autumn, finally comes Winter.
Their trip impressive, a continuous
Tramp, tramp, tramp across a long twelve month year.
Appreciating beliefs, ancients thought
Gods inspired the passage of seasons.
Planting, growing, harvesting, then resting-
The Cycle Of Life pulsating, alive.
Whether it's inspired by human Gods,
The Cycle is forever in action.
Life accepts pecking orders that exist,
Food chains established in all habitats;
Active or inactive life adjusts needs,
Caloric, plant or animal, forms food.
Pilling up west, fluff on the horizon
Forms a storm front of dark rain laden clouds.
The key of living's the wet in water,
Unlocking cells that will ignite life's spark.
Cumulus clouds transmute their deep spirit,
Vapor ballooning visual shape, God ?
Ronald C. Downie