Above the Brindled Sky

No Roatan amber honey
setting into liquid bronze:
only palettes of white and black
mixed carelessly into gray-on-gray
storm clouds-on-clouds,

 

raining into steely lakes and rivers.
No mahogany clay terraces
or viridian hillsides surrounding
pink granite quarries;
no pale striation feathered along
an endless horizon:

 

Even Mount Baldy cannot rise
above the brindled sky.