Today we will paint violet and orange
A scurry of quiet voices.
We are on board the morning train.
Leafless trees and brambles
brush the sky.
Today we will paint violet and orange.
The horizon revolves slowly
its opposing way,
It’s like the rim of an artist’s palette;
that tower is his thumb poking through.
How awesome is our Artist supreme.
Far more beauty in this world
than the sum of ugliness.
I’m heading for the hospital;
a small matter, but not for my family.
Went into a little shop
to buy pen, notebook,
so I could write this down.
The man behind the counter hunted
every corner. Sorry, he said,
John Raubenheimer, Settle, North Yorkshire
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