This morning sunshine
softens the land's hard edges
like butter on toast.

These Easter colours –
eggs for breakfast; daffodils
poking through the snow.

Bolts of lightning slice
through the sooty sky and through
the car radio.

Walking at lunchtime
through a posh suburb – smell of
wet leaves, toast and tea.

I know they're streetlights
but from the top my street seems
to plunge into stars.

An angel's caress:
snow through the bathroom window
on my just-shaved face.

Racing in the wind,
clouds sweep down the valley floor –
God's mexican wave.

The top of the hill:
a purple flower blossoms,
painted on a van.