From ‘A Chagall Postcard’ by Peter Porter
Is this truth all that we can have,
The dark palette, the harsh music,
Tucked away in hidden corners,
The circling crows?
Celebrate in nature’s night time,
The changes creep through to be seen,
The painted noise we hide behind,
Left to the cold.
Day and night twist the morning dawn,
The light shines so we cannot touch,
Break the bonds to see promised flaws,
False smiles all around.