Creator’s clouds copied by brushes and paints impress some, but both His yakka and its yield remain inimitable.

Spacing of complementary hues and textures—placed by gumptious hands—inspire action even in their settled state.

Stormy poofs of the periphery, ready to rain haterade on the trodden below, retreat to placating pinks, peacefully aglow.

To the heavens, eyes on sky’s guise realize the bona fides—in that limned with grace for our hope, wondered awe is left misting in memories. ; )