Nebraska's August sky,
Distant storms pock the horizon.
All directions clouds race,
White-gray billowing high full of energy.
Streaks of rain cross hatch deep blue,
Shrouds distant Laramie Peak to the west.
Partial rainbows against pale clouds,
Fade and surge off in the east.
If I stop for a moment,
A portrait evolving,
I'm a speck in western plain's painting.
Saturation of colors in atmosphere,
Nearby moisture pulling out hues.
Nothing can replicate the image,
The best camera still dulls the brilliance.
I'm in this living picture,
Gratitude and joy well up.
Childlike fascination pulls,
In creation's beauty exposed.
All that's raw and wrong,
Peace settles deep,
Lost in beauty.
About this poem: Last night as the sun is low moving ditch water and just observe all that is around me in the moment. Caught up in the beauty.
About the Author: Brian Bucks lives on a small horse ranch in Western Nebraska and is a husband, father, electrical engineer, and poet.
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