[Unable to display image] After The Rain Pigeons are tap-dancing on the roof And have pulled me out of the dark With a few ruffled sleep-covered feathers. Its
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, Jun 9, 2003
After The Rain
Pigeons are tap-dancing on the roof
And have pulled me out of the dark
With a few ruffled sleep-covered feathers.
Its already light enough to see
That there is no end to this worlds love story.
Yesterday it rained and rained and rained.
The ground is still drinking
From the overflow of the sky
And is saturated into wet-dreams.
Puddle walking garden thrushes are fishing for worms
In the marsh of the morning.
There are no large lakes in this area
Just dreaming ponds
Mostly hidden in modest glades
That only mystic-walkers know of.
We who stalk the countryside
Searching for the secret life of ponds
To make water-colours of natural art forms.
Poised like storks we inhabit
The margin of a more fluid reality.
I swear those pigeons must have boots on!
Grumbling up out of my sea-dreams
Raiding the freezer
I drink more cool water down
And slowly begin to fashion a raft of quick sketches.
A few still-life poses to paddle through.
Looking for the flotsam the tidemark of the world
Has beached for my eye to paint this day.
Copyright Eric Ashford June 2003.
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