Through those airy droplets of little diamond
splinterings clear,
Within the glittering, sun-kissed & prismatic
drops of joyful tears,
Lies Ploughed across our mighty sky, the frutal
orchard of our God,
The holy place through which promised rain clouds fly,
scud & plod.
Red berried blood, grenadines, raspberries, berries
& juicy jewels,
Running through the heaven´s veins above, with
promising renewal,
Ochre’s oranges, sunrises from deep within a warm
& sunny Spain,
Their squeezing, quenching the arid earth´s thirst
with welcome rain.
Yellow of the golden pineapples, sharp lemons & of
rosy apricot suns,
Metal, silken strands, paving paths where planets
& shooting stars run,
Greens of small seeded kiwis, greengage plums &
sharp refreshing limes,
Fringing & framing our heavens, fronds where
ardent passion fruit climbs.
Blue-berried skies, striped in many berried hues, myriads
of oozing blues,
Staining God´s fingers as he drips & juices the
heavens with raindrops anew,
Indigo grapes & fat round plums, dye, stain &
mark the storm´s dark clouds,
Splattering the juice much needed, upon the planet´s
eagerly awaiting crowds.
Violet ice frosted petals to sweeten the sorry, bruised
& weeping wanton sky,
As God´s mighty fruit salad bowl beckons & urges us
to reach up, to taste & try,
To pluck from his fruity orchard, bounty of every promise,
colour & of every hue,
Having savoured the beauty of every one, he´ll wrap the
sky again in pristine blue.
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