sky marker

“At least it keeps the mosquitoes away,” one of my table-mates said, as we watched the swooshes of smoke waft into the Havana sky.

It was the darkest hour of twilight, when there was just enough of gleam from the lurid sky, to shew the outline of objects.

He had seen through a powerful naval glass some figures standing erect and silhouetted against the sky on the parapet.

If it should ever be my lot to take the Long Trail at short notice, I hope it will be under a blue sky and a blazing sun.

The storm, however, was over; the moon and stars were shining in a clear sky, and the aurora was dancing merrily.

We stumbled along, close up, for the thick-piled clouds still hung their light-obscuring banners over the sky.