Day 20: Prisms

The sky has settled on the distant hills
To form an artist's line that feebly plays
Across a washed-out canvas.  There, it fills
The empty greys with other empty greys
That darken into view with each new mile
Until revealing features that, abrupt
And full, appear, all magisterial
And stark, stark like a storm, where stars erupt
And toss their tattered dust in sudden pique
Into the dark; cosmic debris; prisms
Of impermanence.  Amidst the hills, one meek
And modest peak remains demure, the sums
Of distance veiling her from view, as they,
The brazen hills, hand innocence away.