Waxed green hearts blanket the banks
Where ripples of light and shadow flow,
The green headed bird leaves an arrow in his wake
And my train begins again.
Through glass I gaze upon darkening sky
Travelling through cacophanous colours,
Warm light turns water to gold against the shell
Of the sphere which holds my world.
Swiftly now I move, watching the sun's final glow.
Darkened storm-bearers let angelic light stream through
To grace with life the deep, damp, darkening land
Until the blanket of night must fall.
Strange how the last breath of day,
Before the world is dipped into rich darkness,
Glows with the most colours, almost as though this setting sun
Creates inks to be mixed into the blackened night sky.