Cloud and sun
Fog hung across shapeless hills, like a thought,until the sun roseand tapped its pale shouldermaking filmy skin pink and sore.
Tired from being up all night
this cloud moved
a crack
and a beam emerged, spreading
molten over
fields of dull green corn
which dazzled gold.
So cumulus couldn't sleep
and still in a grey nightshirt
drifted to the horizon,
sulking and frowning
until sundown.
Mary Charman-Smith