I wake to the sun, cursing the late hour and the summer shine,

Wishing it was dark enough for me to sleep.

Eventually, rising, the wind is low and sweet

A summer morning enticing me but still,

I am too occupied to emerge and breathe the fullness of the air

 

The day passes on, the sun playing games of hide-and-seek from behind the clouds

It’s good at this game, the sun, and I am losing.

White-blue-yellow-grey, its always grey

The wind has picked up now, in a nice way,

It lets me work away in comfort, in joy, music with birds chirping, soft dry grass

 

By afternoon all hope is lost,

The brightest grey, blinding almost,

A mishmash of shapeless cloud in shades of white and darker

Ever-changing, overcast comfortable beauty followed by an unforgiving lashing.

The rain whips against my face, but I embrace its warmth and innocence

 

At some point, I give in

Dropping to my knees I ask what I am doing

Here under this undecided madness

Who am I trying to fool here, succumbing to the ruffian mists of the West

You promise me nothing, only change, only a vastness that blends with the sea

 

Evening comes and turns pink in its insatiable anticipation,

Purples that remind us of our humanity.

Stillness, finally, with a touch of gold and total love.

A longing now for the night, blackest night,

An escape that was surely made for people like us.

 

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