Sky the colour of wet slate, clouds like smudged chalk, up to the demarcation of a double rainbow.
Beyond this: perfect edged white, cyanine stillness.
Other words, immaterial: other frescos, outshone.
Nature flummoxes with a magnitude we can only faintly sketch.
I attempt to describe a feeling of symbiotic absorption. Cross out notes, words are too clumsy. Allude to a space behind words, a silent resonance.
Rain gathers, confers; at the right density, it drops.