The sky, hung grey, is handsome.
Across the hills are cloud stacks, lined up as if for a chess game.
A spill of indigo beneath these silvered pieces.
Between the flat slate and the snow-capped cerulean, a wide curtain of colour drops, as the rain drops, as the spectrum splits.
Trees peer at their pooled reflections, see how buds swell from wet bark.
Hedgerows are polkaed in primrose.
Water rises to greet each footprint.