Lush warm blue. Radiant. Rain cool bells, fresh
celestial pigment, space untempered
slipped, low, through trees - solemn grey, hushed, host
this deep cobalt jubilee. Free, each year
flame quick burns through May shadows and incense
smell flushes delight from inner dullness
as riches from sense to soul overflow
How many years will this colour feast
be spread under new fanning green of trees?
When wildness is free just to those with wealth
and hope is held inside adverts not outdoors.
Then our rights come from our buying power
and those without have no comfort, for Man
builds on the work of God and kills all those
daring to break this second hand control.
Instead he seeks manufacturing growth -
endless, pointless use of Life's resources
to make money, because the rich won't share
and money doesn't grow from trees. Time does
and it's running out
from reading Jane Hyphen's bleak but brilliant https://www.abctales.com/story/jane-hyphen/i-woke-inverted-commas