Only If You Listen

The sky, enamoured and beguiling, articulates in bits of sentence - all adjectives and no nouns

You fill in the gaps according to the light and your situation

The voice of sky; it's function as dictat; gets everywhere yet is rarely mentioned 

People are too wrapped up in the colour of it's chatter

The pastels and topaz and azure

Mother-of-pearl

Crimson furl

I mean, they're all fine but it's not like I can hear sunsets and dawns

Their sounds and scrapes ring mute to my ears

They don't tell me anything

Not literally


Once, ankle deep in rainstorms, I looked up and was promptly told to "be"

Don't escape the deluge; you are the deluge

Just like that

Clean as a whistle down a rainbow sheen

I'll never forget

I was half way down Park Lane, Trafford quays, on the way to the pool above the soccer dome

But that's not the best bit

The best bit is that when I somehow obeyed without effort

All time stopped dead, the water dried up yet fell harder, it's cold tilted into a warm hug

And I couldn't walk slow enough

I couldn't get enough of that

Of course, it seems obvious now

But I was simply learning that escape isn't made by running

It's too without

Liberation is within

Run with your brain

Not from the rain


Ever since, cold winter mornings send invites the night prior

Enveloped in smiles and sealed in known belonging

So I hit the pillow with ease

Ready for the cold warm breeze

Which holds me tight yet makes you sneeze


Rain is an army of dry

I should know

I was told by the sky

Throw-away objects can be diamonds that glisten

Either I need locking up

Or, when looking up, you don't listen