The sky has come down
to lie on the grass.
A low sun looks on
in wonder, sidelong.
Pale-blue intersecting
ice-kingdoms extend.
Someone has patterned
the lawn with diamonds.
Sapphire worlds flash.
Criss-crossed figures
coincident heiroglyphs
interlink, dazzle.
‘Everything comes too late’
say those who see nothing.
Concealed from them
the crystalline fields.
Luminous geometries
blue-green tartans of frost
snowclouds, tropospheres
carpeting at dawn.
Loomings of paradise
lapidary-work, last night
laid across the countryside
the frosted-over land.
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