I looked up to the skies and there I saw
More colours than I ever thought I knew,
More colours than I recognised before;
I grasped them, held them, made an image true.
Bright blues and reds are laid on yellows, wet,
To run as wet on wet, to blend, until
I see the image that I want; and yet
They run their own way and forever will.
The fields reflect the skies; the waters, still,
Are pierced by weeds and reeds and grasses.
No house, no bird, no sign of life to fill
The scene: and yet life never passes.
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