Cloud Carpet

Air hung heavy on a day rounding

records for climate changing. You

see how apricot the frangipanis

open?  How gaura petals float

like the carpet above? Clouds move

in, cirrocumulus as far as wind

can swing. And like soft treads

the patch breathes


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my palette, paled under

the false light of obfuscation,

a bureaucrat’s penstroke

of directives. Colour it

the sunset cocktail

western reflections flitting

between skyscrapers and clouds

so that the east shone a hue

of Blakean presence


such tiger-orange clouds

that grasped reality

I could not wait for words

I snapped

I reached for the ubiquitous

phone and snapped, I snapped

just to add colour. Amid the traffic

how I could roar, roar away

the work day





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Clouds and Bromeliads


Clouds grow; set free to arc the sky

Light sweeps from the setting sun

And the rising moon, a titan’s night

The autumn equinox defining similitude.

Then home to definition and invention

And bromeliads. A dark space transformed

By cream and green, as bright a sight

To sow delight as only nature brings.


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