Sky at seven thirty pm

Clouds not black but grey

Striped the sky today

Then the white and blue

Had a gentler hue

Now the grey is pale

Looks like fishes” tails

The sun is almost set.

The watercolour’s wet.

I went up to the gate

The twisted Hazel’s mate.

I love the vital tree

Its branches touch, touch me.

Thw cat purrs cosily

All I see is me.