Day Two Hundred and Thirteen: Pretty Sure It’s a Scottish Thing…

Sunset in Pollok Park

Untitled (Red)

Red sky drips from the drizzly maw
of a grizzly ashen sky
tearing the clouds to shreds
in the blink of an eye.

Icy cold teeth fall out
at a rate centimetres per second,
resolving to bite into the slate horizon,
only to end up dulled by toothless inaction.

In the end it must relent.

Soggy clouds give way to
an alien dusk,
surrendering the greens, blues and purples
from the watercolour sky,
bleeding orange and red
onto an almost Martian skyline,
shaking the last of the rain to the Earth.


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