Orange Days

I love the sky when its speckled with clouds.
When it looks like one big tub of ice cream.
With swirls of vanilla,
And a blob of orange sun.
Sometimes, like its interspersed with
Splashes of strawberry,
And a wash of blackcurrants.

When the clouds spiral
In wafty, flimsy, cotton candy-y, thready wisps
Like the puffs from my daddy’s pipe
When he takes an occasional smoke.
Or the smoke from a huffy chimney,
In a white winter scape.

Or when the sun’s about to
Play hide and seek,
And dip below the horizon.
And the sky around it gets ablaze
On what I call my Orange Days.
Like neon paints, with that unearthly glow.
When everything around is tinted in its radiance,
Making me feel I’m looking
Through cheap children’s toy glasses.

I live for those days.