Smoke and mirrors

at last the rain falls
to soak and drench the dry
ground, wind comes with it
tossing all the trees and
booming in the chimney,
clouds scud past south-west
to north-east

I am weaving the colours of
Scotland: flecked blue, bright
gold, grey, fresh green,
cream, emerald, the rain
sweeps by like smoke -

later the light will pool
quiet, quiet, in my secret
studio and I will sit
happy, full

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