The sky is grey today with streaks of blue;

Swirls in the sky reflect sombre horizons;

Behind my back cumulus clouds mass

Over the hills, conspiring in their usual

Ragged silence. In front of me are drear

Trees laid bare, a mist of water soaks the air.

A cough that I caught in the peasoupers

Of the past,  pulls my scarf tighter,  I focus keenly

On the patterns of infinitude, half-perceived

And half-created, washing over these

Far pavilions, trapped by this over-active mind

Of mine. And all the time, the drag of

Discontent whispers in mine inner-ear:

'The alternative to this is dread and fear'.