The sky is God's palette
The elements his media
Think ye impressionism
Surrealism
Or realism
When he paints the dawn

When you greet the morn
His paintbrush is swirling
A dash of purple
In the undercarriage
Makes a cloud a float
In an Every St. Day Parade

A red curtain unfolds the horizon
Yellow streaks the sky
Beams burst thru the clouds
Falling like confetti
Across every green acre
To fill the canvas of your eye