A pale cast

A pale cast The season’s serene stillness is settled. The sky is white-edged With light from a sun Too mild to dominate, Rather compromising this morning With the other elements. Today the clouds, Having offered not to impose Woolly boundaries or blanketed territories, Are team players Sifting the brightness and gentling The sheer air, Rinsing the overhead blue With a silent, unmoving paleness – Mustering, perhaps, a shade of gold To welcome the sunset A whole afternoon away, Or saving some colour To lighten the night with indigo And a shade of mist Around the moon.