Sat., Mar. 28

Misty morning fog
clinging in the valleys
where they'd only just arose,
cloud shield heavy across
a sky in heavy drapes
of maroon and dusty rose.
Strips of blue and purple
band the azure distant hills,
filtering the sun's slow rising.
A dissected sphere of orange
lifts imperturbably,
imperceptibly climbing,
into the azure, breaking warmly gold;
driving, my thoughts are black, and white, and cold.