Fields Of Rain
The sky grows dark in fields of rain,
A platinum gray just tinged with black;
The stormclouds trail their smoky stain
As they creep 'cross the gold Earth's back.
The raindrops meet with gilded grass,
And tint its tips with inky jet;
The fields paint sky in single pass
As lightning spreads its vibrant net.
It laces clouds and spikes the trees,
And withdraws from its masterpiece.