Metamorphosis in darkness.
Then the dripping sky,
a journey between time and distance.

Little lambs grazing.
How do I walk back into the past?
How does one see beyond the windows, trees and the sea?

White, pink, blue
bells and whistles,
the tiny flowers know.

I stare at the window sill,
knowing and not-knowing.

Last winter I went ploughing in the fields
And suddenly the sun came out just for me.

10.02.2015