If the sun rose this morning, Wednesday, December 10, 2014 by Ken Ronkowitz 0 the gray sky hid it from view, and my own clouds hid the sky. No amethyst dome. No ribbons of sunlight. No bird song. No change in light to tell time. Night falls hard black. Advertisements Share this poem:TwitterFacebookGoogleRedditTumblrEmailLinkedInPinterestMorePocketPrintLike this:Like Loading... Related