From here, we thought we knew where blue sky met
the ever stolid earth terrain below,
Sun rays break through wisps one can’t forget,
Each day unique, and ne’er a hint of snow.
From here, each new horizon seemed to show
If troubles or fair weather lay ahead,
Red skies or not, we’d plan, then off we’d go,
Without a second thought of fear or dread.
From here, these near horizons formed a thread
of fortunes to be won, or games well-played,
But blinded by its light, we were misled,
We failed to know, we were in retrograde.
We long for days of innocence and calm,
Up here, afar from earth, a silent balm.
Photo a Friday: #horizon
Horizon is defined as “…the line where the earth seems to meet the sky : the apparent junction of earth and sky.” (Merriam-Webster). And that apparent junction is viewer-dependent. These days, our horizons, both literal and implied, appear to be limited and often misleading. But up here, soaring over the Grand Canyon, our horizons can appear to be limitless – a soothing, hopeful thought and welcomed respite from these troubling times.