A storm front moved maculately
West to east like weather
Delaying flights of fellow improvisatori
Sepia tones overlaid on eyes like heather

Dull gray weather, hardy like the heath
Ahead of horrid humidity
Far away, is there sunshine on Leith?
Only Scottish proclaimers know with certainty

Fake trees and grass
Sit before window glass
And internal highways beckon
But first I’ll wait
as this flight is late
By some 3600 seconds.

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