Sister

It all just came to a stop.
Smoke blown in to the moisture laden morning air,
But still birdsong falls like rainbow rain
A persistant rose refusing to give ground to the season
Still fighting to flower, a droplet of colour in the grey
Sister, are these a message to me?
Did I miss something when I casted my eye over this field?
Perhaps I didn't, but did I really see?


Paolo Driussi.