Love’s energy spent,
the room assumes
a new texture.
Come to the window,
look, it is raining.
Five starlings
crystallise the lawn,
wet plumage on fire.
Rising, they wheel,
blurs of insolence,
towards the trees.
A rainbow frames the sky,
streaked with gold
and all the colours
you could name, my love.
Stars emerge.
How could we be
other than happy?
