fragments of sky
litter my thoughts like pieces of a shattered image
like scraps of burnt wood painted with
parts of some masterpiece scene
of a carnival in the town churchyard
with frolicking jesters and laughing children
a quaint country place where fiddle players
and young girls dance and sing
but such as this place is now no more than image
pressed into the fire consumed wood
no more than some forgotten place filled
with forgotten loves and forgotten lovers
i lay there in the ruins of the church
three hundred years on from the day it met its fate
where now a oak flourishes true and tall
such transient things such as our lives
have such beauty but fleet as birds to roost as
they disappear in the first burst of rain

fragments of sky perceived
in small spaces given by the leaves overhead
the dusty lens of my mind
churns over the unfolded event
like the lost man peering with confusion's
at the undecipherable map of clouds
shifting by the butterfly light wind
i sneak my way into a shaft of
the suns warm light
and await the birdsong to renew its
speech and thought
they look down on my reclining form
in grass below
ready to take wing should i leap to devour
but i will not rise
i am trapped by the changing mosaic of the sky
its simple tones belie the beauty it contains
grey over blue and white edges
such simple ever changing permanence in the sky
the cloud moves swiftly away from my minds grasp
and the birds remark to one another the
lateness of the day
i open heart and eyes
stand and walk away from open sky