Cerulean between the dark clouds
Wash ultramarine on the water.
To the North a squall blurs
To the right a beautiful broken rainbow falls
Onto a grey monument on an overgrown headland.
Squall curdles to storm
Flash and roll
The horizon closes
And our heads are bowed down by a hard rain.
Why did we come out here?
Shouldn't we have listened to the forecast?
It's because we wanted to see the beautiful colours in the sky.
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