The Colours of Night
Have for instance kingfishers
— now that it's night — gone all drab
and marigold petals black?
In my dream the ship I'm on
and about to fall off is
more orange than oranges
and the deeps waiting for me
have a surface as frail blue
as the eggs of hedge-sparrows.
I don't fall. I brush against
a New Zealand Daisy Bush
whose leaves are like a rainbow
that ranges from green to green
and whose crowding snow blossoms
incandesce, warm me like fire.
On that fourth day, when the sun
was arranged, was there something
extra God saw to, reserve
illumination for dreams
saving us from the torment
of black print on black pages?
Robin Fulton 09.03.2008 Druckansicht Seite empfehlen
Grenzflug. Ausgewählte Gedichte. Edition Rugerup 2007