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And contemplate the eternity of creation,
Sometimes I could cry;
When mackerel sky
Stretches endlessly before me
And joyful birds dodge mallow clouds
That skim the roof of the world.
In hues of peach and blue and misty grey
Warmed to life by a blood sun
Slung low over northern winter land and sea,
My home.
When savage wind and rain make dreams
Of hot and distant foreign climes,
I remember sights like this
And chide myself that I should ever forget
For one moment such beauty unsurpassed.
Even when the heavens blacken and boil with rage
Like Turner's Tempest,
I would pay to see
Were it not provided free.
Imagine never watching weather and waves
Punish or soothe the earth,
The power and glory of Mother Nature manifest.
To be blind would mean to never more
Gorge on the feast of vision
But to watch within and count on memories.
I would rather die than never see
My sky again.
Linda (e-mail: jelibow@tinyworld.co.uk
URL: www.knobblycrab.co.uk/~feeblemind)
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