Light blue limpid sky
a lamb’s fleece drifts slowly towards the sea,
across a vast ocean
where a plane fell down into a street,
jet fuel burning hopes and dreams
leaving behind black smoke
and sorrow a peaceful winter morning,

Here, the afternoon calm is deep green with lucid flowers,
not even a slight breeze breaks the euphony of nature’s silence,
while bombs fall in the land of mountains,
grey rivers and dust,
killing, as wars do,
those who dream and water plants.

Slowly it’s clouding over,
I hear thunder from the east
and fear that there is not a hiding place for peace,
no valley or oasis of shady palms will be spared
by those lusting for war.
Savour this moment now
before trees are bare
in no man’s land