Sweetness, some cloudlessness, some shapes,
a random horse, the rolling arrangement
of the mind, with eyes open.
Fluttering gold limbs of brown leaves
sunned by straight cloudless blue in October,
bits and pieces of the sometimes Sunday.
A real skyline for its own sake.
Not regret in the sky but late light,
little certainty in the dusk.
Old cars and roses. The yard prepares for evening.
It knows the colour of yesterday,
as the shapes in the yard are angles of themselves.
This night of royal blue can taste the sea,
reflected in a field of smoothness,
gulls tumbling over the tide.
The tide goes out, the tide comes in.
Everything seems to want to be
electric. Everything comes alive.