Sky scudded its shapeless cloud; I stared up in wonder,
Alone on the cold granite stairway of my house;
The quaking earth shook in my trembling limbs.
In the night, half awake in my darkened room,
Lions roared around my bed, a raging menagerie
Beneath its narrow frame.
In a dream I saw my mother
Lean forward and, with her knees, gently close
The dresser drawer in which my clothes were folded;
She pulled the door to just a crack of light, enough
For sleep to come and hold me.
Waiting room: warm as sleep,
Seats lined along the walls,
In a periphery of patience;
Magazine pages rustle
In casually shaking hands;
Advertising on a screen
Mimics normality and the sea
Rushes to shore, tide rising;
Elsewhere a chamber of politicians
Drags out decision or indecision,
Human eyes see as in the beginning;
Since the dawn of cells, all change,
If change it were, was in the mind
Light interpreted as it falls
Shadow’s darkness guessed at.
Green became the colour of place
Canopy, valley, grassland, pasture,
And blue, the sky, except when cloud
Held it down, neutral and grey.
Brown and black made the ground,
Heath and tree bark, the soil beneath.