The
sky was near, hard and the colour of slate,
I felt
I could swing a sledge hammer to crack it open
and
find a calm ethereal blue sky underneath
A mighty
cypress still fully swathed in deep dark green
stood
defying the raw winter cold amongst bare, crooked
and
haggard trees
Pink
and purple cyclamens bright and flamboyant
blooming
and flowering ferociously in a season of
wilting,
dullness and death
Water
came pouring down from the slate grey sky,
a bewildering
miracle failing to enthrall anyone at all.
