The sky grey today with streaks of blue
Swirling northern skies reflect sombre horizons;
Behind my back cumulus clouds mass
Conspiring in their usual
Ragged silence. In front of me are drear
Trees laid bare, a mist of water's in the air.
I am caught cough, cough, coughing in the smogs
Of the past, I pull my scarf tighter and focus keenly
On the patterns of infinitude, half-perceived,
And half-created, imposed upon me by these
Far pavilions, mingling in this over-active mind
Of mine with my son's long, so-long, silence.
Discontent whispers in mine inner-ear:
'Not here, nor there, not anyfuckingwhere!'