The sky is grey today with streaks of blue;
Swirls in the sky reflect sombre horizons;
Behind my back cumulus clouds mass
Over the hills, conspiring in their usual
Ragged silence. In front of me are drear
Trees laid bare, a mist of water soaks the air.
A cough that I caught in the peasoupers
Of the past, pulls my scarf tighter, I focus keenly
On the patterns of infinitude, half-perceived
And half-created, washing over these
Far pavilions, trapped by this over-active mind
Of mine. And all the time, the drag of
Discontent whispers in mine inner-ear:
'The alternative to this is dread and fear'.