Outside, the world sighs
Grumbles, laments and cries.
Inside quiet he lies:
The Watcher of the Skies.

The night is our eyes,
Sleep not through its dark guise.
Awaiting starry rise:
The Watcher of the Skies.

Cool breeze, water dries
Whose drama never dies?
Silently he replies:
The Watcher of the Skies.

Blue heaven soon flies
Stars give way, night’s demise.
Time to rest, then reprise:
The Watcher of the Skies.

WORDS AND IMAGE JEFF CLAY