The Battle of the Concrete Skies......

I watch the skies; I watch the skies often. They (or shall I call they 'it'?) are alive, thriving with the threat of rain, the maker or breaker, the giver or the taker; the skies decide what you do, what you wear and more importantly, how you feel!  It breathes so it seems and clouds form, maybe the sun has been puffing on his pipe; a smoke screen for him to hide behind, like he feels disconnected too. The sky resembles a big over-imposing, all soul-consuming multi-storey car park, I watch the skies often: cold, damp and oppressive - like concrete......and in that moment, I am insignificant, small and I am crushed.

In another (moment),when the sun has built his strength, he takes control, exposing his theoretical sledgehammer and creating panic among the clouds. A battle, a fight. Sun wins!  Broken, the clouds disperse into smaller, less intrusive pieces so they can float away - defeated. The sun has won his confidence back; I can bask in his happy rays, just for a little while, before he lays down his hat and settles down for the night and the darkness takes over light once more.