How the Sky Learned to Cry.
The sky became still, as night withdrew,
devoid of fear, in pomp it turns blue.
A quiet calm, where fear never grew.
Then into the sky a child flies its kite,
darting swiftly, terror’s flight—
Turns the sky pale, dulling its light
to a solemn gray hue.
For pride once lived within the sky,
A bold and grand, unbroken high.
Where only birds dared to fly.
But a child with kite tales, brought it low,
Turning azure to sorrow’s glow.
For what was this thing? The sky did not know—
In fear, then sadness, the sky began to cry.
Never such a sight seen in all its years,
the sky once bold now gives way to tears,
The rain falls softly, as the child cheers!
The sky, once proud, now weeps in rain,
Its strength dissolved, its joy turned to pain.
watering the sand on the desert plain.
The cries of the people the sky now hears.
Cries of joy as the land began to heal—
Prideful sky would not give up the rain, thus the steal—
As the earth sprouted with life and zeal,
To bring life from a prideful sky, only a child could do.
The rain that follows fear and pain is soft and true,
Sky now humbled, reborn, refreshes anew.
For the child taught the sky to feel.
WoPoLi 
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