Skyfall

The sun above the clouds was visible
And did not dazzle the onlooking eye
Indeed the thought it might was risible
For though it might be monarch of the sky
It looked like molten copper, brownish-red
Against the gray-white foreground of the cloud
Like looking on a penny that could shed
Reflected light off of a lamp. Allowed
By nature's odd caprice to stare up straight
And see the sun directly as I might
I took advantage of this strange estate
And bathed myself in its weird cupric light
Wondering if being so would change
Something in me to match how it was strange.