I can see the north west tip beneaths the sun's crown the sea is a soft soft jade - almost grey the day wears a bruise blushed siphoned through crimson
two walkers on a circuitous path
a pink slip off the hem of north island before the light s start to flash their onerous task (benevolent) that suspension forever expanding contracting
a carmine flood leaching light leached crimson leaching down into night beet root
incidental lights
deep deep soft ember
deep intense pink resonant hum of a soft red amongst deep grey blue over soft grey green like gathered over a shadow immense lattitude rimmed - St Mary's mast visible the wolf, roundhouse hard to leave the air is so much bigger
and time recedes through this gap of night and I feel it returning like a deep thrumb