The rainbows

How the times past coloured different,

the bright green fertile plains of grass

to the dark brown, almost black

furrows ploughed up the earth,

or the red of the roof

tiles laid side by side

in rows planted beeches

the wine in mothers glass

the rainbows

I cannot forget the swallows

in black and white

painted on the ground

in their flight

swarmed out in stories

between clouds populated

in all the shades of grey,

giants and dragons

who silently but certainly

are fainting in my head.

© Rudi J.P. Lejaeghere

04/10/2014