They say when an artist dies, God lets them paint the sky. Ami captures the once in a lifetime opportunities she sees while they still exist in the sky above. The sky can display a beautiful array of colors every now and then especially during sunrise and sunset. She likes to use her "tall" house to her advantage. Her house provides a clear shot of the sky from the viewpoint of the terrace. Here are some of the pictures she took:
There Is Another Sky - Poem by Emily Dickinson There is another sky, Ever serene and fair, And there is another sunshine, Though it be darkness there; Never mind faded forests, Austin, Never mind silent fields-- Here is a little forest, Whose leaf is ever green; Here is a brighter garden, Where not a frost has been; In its unfading flowers I hear the bright bee hum: Prithee, my brother, Into my garden come!
The Sky Is Falling - Poem by Sandra Fowler It is as if white clouds have come to earth. The sky is falling. Do you mind, my friend? Moon sheets echo a shining out of time. Tree limbs cripple the cadence of snow's song.
Eyes tell me that you pity the cold glass. You write a letter to me in its frost. Your words weave me a coat of chimney smoke. That shadow is the warmth I hold most dear.
The Sun Has Burst The Sky - Poem by Jenny Joseph The sun has burst the sky Because I love you And the river its banks.
The sea laps the great rocks Because I love you And takes no heed of the moon dragging it away And saying coldly 'Constancy is not for you'. The blackbird fills the air Because I love you With spring and lawns and shadows falling on lawns.
The people walk in the street and laugh I love you And far down the river ships sound their hooters Crazy with joy because I love you.
In My Sky At Twilight - Poem by Pablo Neruda In my sky at twilight you are like a cloud and your form and colour are the way I love them. You are mine, mine, woman with sweet lips and in your life my infinite dreams live.
The lamp of my soul dyes your feet, the sour wine is sweeter on your lips, oh reaper of my evening song, how solitary dreams believe you to be mine!
You are mine, mine, I go shouting it to the afternoon's wind, and the wind hauls on my widowed voice. Huntress of the depth of my eyes, your plunder stills your nocturnal regard as though it were water.
You are taken in the net of my music, my love, and my nets of music are wide as the sky. My soul is born on the shore of your eyes of mourning. In your eyes of mourning the land of dreams begin.