In this edgeless weather the light blunts to grey.
If not for lovers and birds the day would seem a defeat.
But they are out, contrary to instinct,
obliging me to confront the pallor of this airless day.
Lovers take no notice of the still, dispirited elements.
Birds take in the becalmed air, return it as song.
The sun lasers the spectrum across purpling clouds –
as if this venture were all to love and nothing to fear.