Tuesday, 20 March 2012


Rain’s drama falls in a scintillating curtain, sun still shining
shimmering the wind picking up speed, glossing
the brown leaves that start their soft spiralling
descending in a whispering falling.

Miracle of whiskey light in the aftermath.

Slow-motion afternoon, playing
out its mysterious radiance,
the old sun-rain dance.

The acupuncturist is called.
Arrives with his box of pins.
Performs the old voodoo trick.

End of the show.
Blinking in the light.

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