A Rosa Coloured Sky

The grey clouds are floating fast across the pastel coloured sky. Just at the horizon the sky is pink as if someone painted it with the light strokes of a paint brush against a light blue canvas. A vague yellow light still glows where the sun has set. The church bells are ringing faintly in the distance. Deer will come out of the forrest soon to cross the fields in the safety of darkness. The trees forming a windbreak on the field reach up over the horizon and display their vein-like tops as dark contrasts against the rosa coloured skies behind them. I once asked my mother why there were such beautiful colours in the sky at sunset. I was 5 years old and we stood in our backyard and looked over a field much similar to the one I'm describing now. I remember her squeezing my hand, looking over at the landscape and appreciating the warm colours. She told me it was a our ancestors who made those beautiful colours for us to enjoy. That maybe granddad had painted the sky pink while my great grandmother had created the lines of purple. It was a poetic explanation I deeply embedded in my little heart and never forgot although my mother did. It's a beautiful thought, really. That no matter how hard your day has been, somebody is thinking of you and showing you a little bit of beauty if you care to look. The pink of the sky outside is fading now and the grey clouds from the West are covering almost everything now. The candles indoors shine brighter and my mum will soon be back.