An extract from an unfinished piece, written January 2018.
The darkness doesn’t linger too long.
The birds see it-
At four-thirty, they swoon melodies of rising,
At half seven, Sun begins to break through the
It is still light at a quarter to five.
The divine gradients of chalk blue, blackcurrant and peach return,
patiently, to our skies,
As watercolours running across a page,
Delicate and freeform, tinted beauty.
Clouds, as a gilded world map
Scattered and strewn above