Remember?

Who remembers the sun’s golden-bright,
Not silvery, lost in an unnatural light?
When the sky was a deep, rich hue,
Not pale milky blue, a tainted view?

Robust, gorgeous cirrus clouds danced high,
Crisply delineated, painting the sky.
But now weird streaks mar the scene,
Blocking the sun, an unwelcome screen.

What happened to those days of old,
When is nature’s beauty freely told?
Now plagued with horrid inevitability,
The sky’s grace tainted — lost its ability.

Sundogs appear, a bizarre sight,
Then spitty-grey covers blocking light.
Gone are the days of crisp and clear,
Replaced by a haze, we now fear.