I am out, a world of hazes, these oranges and yellows
Lighting the fields in cresents of coloured airs

Creatures that live at this time of year, and wake
I hear scurries, scuttles, and the occasional yelp

I feel dull pain, but lessened by tramadol and palaxia
Sun makes me drunk on the high tide of cold spring

Life is shining again onto another dead winter past
And soon it will be green and greener still
In this country island home of mine

I work to keep me occupied, and occupied
To keep resentment away, for feeling
wronged, when perhaps there is no such thing

Right and wrong, now there's a rub he'd say
I need to know it, I need the knowing of it like all
men and women

Am I right or am I wrong? or does it matter
When the dull grey soil cares so little about
Those it takes, when end time comes

But I take joy where joy is, and I see it now
Splashed across the sky in pastel gauze yellow
And these slight mauve clouds, I thank the god that
made such things possible.

The end.