broken bottle rockets on the grass
represent a failed attempt
to frame the paintwork of the skies

fingerprints on the horizon's glass
roll in waves to water's end
towards good riddance to goodbye's

in a field of spring's previews
grows the blueprint for another summernight
while the sweetest breath of rain renews
the seconds when the climes are blended right

here I begin my cloudless flight
strangling the southern sky with a yellow kite

passing like a wingless windless ride
wordless grace reclaims the evening tide

and something blue sings into the sails
about how nature's fashion sense
comes with colourschemes in which
the red revives my eloquence