The Colours of Night

 

Have for instance kingfishers
— now that it's night — gone all drab
and marigold petals black?

In my dream the ship I'm on
and about to fall off is
more orange than oranges

and the deeps waiting for me
have a surface as frail blue
as the eggs of hedge-sparrows.

I don't fall. I brush against
a New Zealand Daisy Bush
whose leaves are like a rainbow

that ranges from green to green
and whose crowding snow blossoms
incandesce, warm me like fire.

On that fourth day, when the sun
was arranged, was there something
extra God saw to, reserve

illumination for dreams
saving us from the torment
of black print on black pages?

Robin Fulton    09.03.2008      
Grenzflug. Ausgewählte Gedichte. Edition Rugerup 2007