Why is the sky blue? Part 2

I am still thinking of why the sky is blue.
If you are anything at all like me when it comes to colors in general, you appreciate the blue of the sky. Isn’t it..... nice? Friendly looking?
The pictures that our Shuttle astronauts send back to us earthlings, aren’t they stunning? In recent years, the phrase has emerged “Pale blue dot” in reference to our planet.
Think of colors aglow. Some of them seem to denote things that I would rather not think of, in reference to one’s base planet! Like.... a glowing green. Seems sort of... eerie. Spooky. Murky.
How about glowing red. Danger? Evil?
Yellow? Seems sort of..... diseased or something, to me. Or urine-y.
Pink? I think of those Cadillacs they give to really successful Mary Kay salespersons.
But blue. That iridescent blue. It seems so inviting, and fresh, and alive. It seems to me to be, the very thing. Just right!

Well, yesterday’s musings upon the actual physical reasons of the sky’s blueness reminded me of a poem I had written about six hundred years ago. It’s called The Firmament, which is simply the 1611 King James Version of the word “expanse” or “vault”.
The space between earth and heaven. The sky.
While yesterday we looked at some of the “how” of atmospheric blueness, the following poem may be thought of as one man’s whimsical and extremely unscientifically verifiable explanation of the “why” of atmospheric blueness.

The Firmament

Gold was too brassy; green was too grassy,
and yellow, it seemed a bit bright.
Brown was too muddy; red was too bloody,
and black was reserved for the night.

Purple too bruised, and pink overused,
and orange gave a shout much too loud;
Silver too wild, yet grey was too mild,
and white had a fight with a cloud.

Such was the view at this contest of hue
on the day that the sky should appear;
In the Artist’s opinion, these had no dominion
nor claim to the earth’s atmosphere.

While colors unloving were pushing and shoving
the fairest of all seemed to hide.
With heaven undone, there was only this one
timid shade that had yet to be tried.

When at the last second, by name he was beckoned
toward him the Arm was extended…
And with blue on the brush, even red seemed to blush
and admit that the contest had ended.

For unlike the others, this gentlest of colors
worked softly, without a commotion.
All chaos had fled, as the canopy spread
like a sheet that had mirrored the ocean…

And down on the ground all creation was bound
to direct its attention above…
Where was seen to unroll, clear as words on a scroll
a message, the essence of Love.

As each azure sweep shed its light on the deep
it brought dolphins to surface beholding;
And hillsides were rife with a newness of life
and meadows with crocus’ unfolding.

Now was heaven absorbed, and the earth fully orbed
with a glow only night would diminish;
The masterpiece framed, the Artist proclaimed
“There can be no applause till I finish…”

For now to the sand, He would put forth His Hand
to create that which would give Him praise;
He said, “Adam, it’s blue… and I give it to you
to remember Me all of your days.”

And man, it is said, fell down as though dead
of God so profoundly aware;
The first night he slept, and in loneliness wept
and waking, he found woman there.

In their gardening they, did not always obey
but believing His promises true;
When in need of His love, they would look up above
and read what He’d written in blue.

© Ciprianowords Inc. 2005
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